Blood.

I couldn’t breathe. Everything was coming back. Helplessness, breathlessness, fear. It was to the extent that I had to resort to the old, wrong ways of coping. It’s as if I was cutting up a hole in this airtight dome so that I could breathe, a little. Madness. It’s all madness. You don’t know what words do. You don’t know what they do to people like us. They are the hands that push you off the cliff. When you hit the bottom, they shout out from above, demanding you to get back immediately. We’re all slaves of reality. They fuck you over and over. Never worry about getting pregnant because you’d be fucked so aggressively that a miscarriage would be inevitable. In a zoo, nobody gives a damn whether you’re a lion or a turkey. Everybody is the same, on display. We are all just fed to put up a show. It’s a trap we’re all in, a vicious cycle we can’t escape. 

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