Bitten

A message from a journalist. Watching videos of corpses. A feeling of uselessness — meaninglessness — settling over everything I do, paired with a clear awareness that I can’t do much. A wish to make a difference, a small one, any difference at all, hitting a wall. The lungs refuse to cooperate when the brain tries to make sense of it. An abrupt jump from rest to restlessness. Circling the room. One corner — pain, one corner — rage, one corner — fear, one corner — the simultaneous wish for surrender and the resistance to surrender. A cage full of mad bears: Tension. Numbness. Breath. Pain. Tension again. Tightness in the throat. Energy jumps and accumulates in the body, impossible to contain. Turning destructive. Sweating it out is temporarily impossible. Drinking — not my style. Forgetting — not my mind. Conscious solutions crossed out. The unconscious brings one. An overload of evil triggers an automatic response: conversion. Carry this corpse into creating. Bury it in the best you can give. Balance by contrast — so the system does not crash. And pray it holds.