10 August 2012
Tightening grip around my neck. Face, still smiling, but the breath is becoming laboured, Torture, this is.
My breathing, shallow. Is it supposed to be this way? A rite of passage?
Hanging on with fingertips, Watching the wave of emotions hit the rocks below.... Watching myself, Trying not to let go.
Torture. Torture, this is.
Oh how I long to let go.
Rising Scream • Opuss № I