My intrusive thoughts are like a million buzzing bees beneath my skin, each one stinging and bringing pain, each one leaving marks, each one begging to be released.
There is a flash of silver and a drop of red and the bees spill out and swarm out my bedroom door.
I take a breath.
The tender swipe of a cloth cleans the spot the bees escaped.
By morning, all that will be left of them will be a small little fault in my skin, a reminder that I’m human, a reminder of all the times the bees escaped me.
A reminder that the machine running my body, the chemical factory housed in my skull, has difficulties distributing the chemicals my body craves so my body finds a way to cope.
I have lost the battle to hold back the bees, but one day, I’ll win the war against them.
About the Creator
Stephanie Rice
I’ve been writing little stories and poems since I was 7 but finally started sharing them in 2018. I’m also a self taught photographer
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Off the Book
It ended like every other stupid idea. Badly, and alone. I’m researching digital confession ethics, he said. A tech ethicist. He gestured at floating data I couldn’t see then pulled out a physical notebook. Actual paper, fountain pen. He held it up like he was showing me scripture.
By Nicky Frankly6 days ago in Fiction
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