Derealization

I tried to burn into my skull what happened those months wasn't real. I couldn't cope with the reality that it was, but I didn't know how else to survive the waves. It wasn't that I believed it was all a lie or some sort of elaborate prank, it just couldn't be real in the eyes of my fear.

I took those words and burned them into my brain, melting parts of myself in the process. Sometimes pieces of scorched iron would dive into the wrinkles in my brain, creating more scars, more holes, tearing apart the threads in my mind, but creating problems I can't seem to mend.

They leave my brain hollow, melted matter leaking from my head, down my spine, and into my stomach, leaving me a nauseous mess. Sometimes I try and pull apart the scabs that never seem to heal, to pick at the scars that never seem to get better. It only causes me to bleed even more, drowning my head until I lose all of my thoughts again.

Now nothing seems real. Not what happened, not the scars, not the holes, or the blood. Not even the world feels real, but all that's left behind for me to feel is the terror.