why I’m never leaving my flat again

The three muses: anxiety, agoraphobia and obsession visit on alternate Tuesdays every month. Sometimes they are generous and leave a shadow of an idea in the ruins, but mostly they leave only bleach soaked bathtubs and white spirit washed kitchens. An alter ego lives in a shifted reality, where everything floats a fragment of an inch, to the left. It is still unclear whether that’s better or not. I swear the neighbours are stealing my mail. You know that feeling when everything moves too fast and too slow simultaneously. And when you’re lying in bed but don’t know if you are the one all cozy and snuggled, or if someone else is lying wrapped up in you, tossing and turning, going over everything they ever said that was really embarrassing. You are The Bed and too big for the bed at the same time.

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