I’m starting my short story writing again
Have you ever been confronted with so many options or opportunities that you’re frozen with indecisiveness? Everywhere you look there is another possible path to explore, as if you’re walking through an active nightmare and every tree in the dark forest is really a door waiting to be opened. Just imagine; each door is labeled differently and the labels are screaming at you-begging to be opened. It’s overwhelming, really. And depending on your mental and emotional stability, that can either be a positive or a negative experience; it’s up to you. Personally, I experience both. But my point of view is different than yours. It looks, sounds and feels different, but best of all it tastes different. I live in a rat’s nest of wires. No, not real rats and definitely not real wires…unless you’re a robot comprised of cold electronics, colorful copper and humming circuits.
Wait.
“Me?” you’re wondering. Yes, you. The confused fleshy warmth all seamed together in that meat suit you wear so insecurely. The one who focuses more on the surface flaws you glimpse in your reflection rather than what’s hidden beneath. The one who can’t feel me move around inside, let alone acknowledge my existence. I am the whisper to your doubt, the instigation to your rage, and the laughter to your lacking confidence. You’re disgusting and pathetic, but it feeds me. I absolutely love you for it. Your flaws are mouthwatering. I fester and thrive where you feel weak and limited. I loathe the darkness that you run from. I am the screaming silence pestering you with bitter thoughts throughout your failing attempts to sleep and I am that energetic insomnia you dread.
Hi. You are my rats nest, and this is my home. I am never welcome, but you always leave the door open. You invite me through every sour thought that crosses your mind. You blame me when you react impulsively (rightfully so) but you don’t claim me when it matters. You are irresponsible, and thankfully that gives me the unconditional freedom to target the few responsibilities you do maintain. Well, the pitiful attempt to, that is.
Maybe you have never taken a science class, or maybe that was when you caught up on the sleep I swiftly stole from you each night. Whatever excuse for your minimal knowledge is your loss and my gain. Knowledge is power so I am perfectly fine with taking that from you, too. By definition, I shut down your cortex which disables you from thinking clearly about the situations you encounter. I make it increasingly difficult to concentrate or conclude logical resolutions through problem solving. I get to choose which memories to store, and depending on their categorized emotional involvement, where to store them-or in your case; to not store them at all. Your frantic panicking to remember the trivial details give me an exhilarating high that I have come to eagerly anticipate each day. I have the glorifying honor of being one of the two almond shaped masses of nuclei located deep within the temporal lobes of your brain; the rat’s nest. Don’t worry, the pleasure is all mine. They call me Amygdala, but you can call me Amy; your beloved. I will be your subtle demise. Untraceable, unpredictable, and unfortunately consistently unable to stop that taunting pulse I hear echoing each day.
