Ramblings of a depressed mind: Escape

   Emerald green eyes stare blankly at a painted ceiling. Hair, like snow, falls across a cream pillow. She lays there in an unresponsive state, her body moves only slightly. This movement is in the form of a knee steadily rocking side to side to an unknown tempo and her fingers moving occasionally as if she were playing something on a stringed instrument. She stays like this for hours on end, suspended between reality and a dream.
   She taught herself this trick, a way to escape when nothing else worked. When the art and the words became too jumbled to be of any use or when her focus was shot and she couldn’t escape through literature. She settles, in this state, and recedes somewhere deep into the mind that haunts her. She ventures like Alice in her own brand of madness. She consorts with the demons that torment her soul. Old friends in this state to some extent play mates. She falls further into worlds of her own creation, carefully slipping into the bodies of her own developed brain children. She lives through them and their experiences wandering over many worlds and lifetimes.
   Hours dwindle and still she stays. Until there’s a knock and reality crashes back in to view. The familiar feeling of heart break as she leaves the worlds and people she loves for the one where her existence means little. The mind that just housed her and comforted her turns yet again in to the weapon she honed it to be, the monster that others made her.

The monster that this world created in me.