A guest post written by Ollie.
There's a worm in my spine. It's latched onto the base of my skull with lamprey teeth, it's barbed tongue feeling out the nooks and crannies of my brain, leaving no crevice hidden, no crease safe.
That's called your spinal cord, dumbass.
Its tail snakes down and out a joint, slithering into my veins and through my heart. Twice. First through the left, then the right. It gently settles, bending with the muscle as it pumps, causing no harm, leaving no trace, until I forget it.
All 10 of your grandpa's siblings hearts killed them before 50. You're right to be scared. Are you sure it's still beating? Check, why don't you?
It puts out tendrils, riding the nerves to their termini, boring out my body like beetles tunneling unseen under bark. It's so slow I don't notice, didn't it always hurt this bad? Spasms are easily dismissed, especially when they're your fucking fault because you can't even control your own fucking body get it together. That's not me. That's not fucking me.
I know that didn't used to be you, you were the image of perfect control. Front kick to 1/16th of an inch in front of someone's teeth without breaking a sweat. What happened?
You're not fucking me. I'm not you.
Then what am I? I'm in your head aren't I, and not in the creepy way you're describing. Stop trying to copy Cahatstrophe's style by the way, it's not working. You're just making a cold wet word spaghetti mess of the anatomy you picked up from your brother. How is he doing by the way, medical school, huh? Right after serving the community for a year. Really shows you what even a little bit of put together can
Fucking stop please stop please. I love him. So fucking much. Why would you pit me against him. His success is my joy I don't understand you why are you here please just leave just let me go just why did you even latch on in the first place why
You're treating me like a stranger. That's hurtful. I thought you were
Shut up. Stop. You're pulling that line from the stereotype of a manipulative how the fuck did you get in here. Get out.
I was just helping you say what you wanted, cause you're always walking on eggshells around everyone. You need to loosen up, and if that means mouthing off at me, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.
I'm not. I don't want to hurt you. I've tried. Blades just pass through you and back to me. I don't want more pain. And why do you think I act so careful? Whenever I slip up, whenever I say anything that could even remotely be construed as less than perfect, whenever I so much as get an off glance from a stranger across the aisle of the subway your tail pulls in and my heart seizes and your tendrils pounce and I have to lock my muscles so tight so I don't punch a wall or myself or just run because I'm always hurting people everyone I fucking love gets burned when I talk to them because I always say the wrong things and no matter how careful I am I always step in it and get out, I trust the people I love, they'll tell me if I hurt them too bad, but they'll shrug off the little thing, because they're good people, and it builds and builds and your weight drags at them and thats the stupidest fucking, do you take my friends and family for fucking doormats? they know me and trust me and give me the benefit of the doubt and that's why they dont tell you when STOP.
I'm not gonna fight you right now. I can't. I can't, just stop. please stop.
You don't know how to end this writing, do you.
I don't.
It's ok, you should probably throw it out anyways you'd like that wouldn't you cause this is way too much and too personal for people you just met they're friends they're not, you don't fucking know them, I'm trying to keep you safe you're trying to make me post this and feel bad about it I'm trying to stop you from making your new "friends" uncomfortable, you overshare a lot no I share a lot, there's a difference that you cannot see, obviously. One of us has to be aware, stop shooting the messenger
no response?
You thought this would be more poetic didn't you
shut up
got some compliments from old people who felt bad your grandma died and now you feel like the next fucking,,, ok that's pathetic, we don't know any poets
I'm leaving.
No can do. Gotta finish this entry, or you're letting them down.
I'm leaving.