⏚ ❝ Get out of my head. Get out of my head. Get out of my fucking head. ❞ This was typical, except when it became overwhelming. Head down, palm pressed into his ear, hair in his face, Casey wanted to be anywhere else, anyone else, than where, & who, he was right then. The voices wouldn’t leave him alone, parading through his consciousness like a herd of elephants, uncaring for what they trampled on their tirade. Everything. It hurt to think, to blink, to breathe, & it took everything within himself not to run headlong into traffic.
Instead, he runs into someone, still muttering under his breath, now almost on the verge of begging his curse to stop, to leave him alone, to let him live one moment alone. ❝ I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My head is-- ❞ Killing me. When he looks up, meeting the other man’s gaze, something in his head stops dead, as if possessed, a deer in the headlights. Recognition, maybe.
Or maybe something else. ❝ What do you want? ❞ His voice changes, his very countenance changes, & he fixes the other with a dark look. Then, shaking his head suddenly, he’s Casey again. Just Casey. Just himself. & the silence, refreshing. ❝ I’m sorry. ❞ He offers, meekly, withdrawing, eyes wide. ❝ I didn’t mean anything... ❞ Back to himself, kicked dog.