How can it be so easy to squeeze a grape, but I can’t get myself to pop these fucking eye balls? I’ve been sitting here half an hour pecking at my face and all I have to show for it are slightly irritated eyes.. The floor is cold and uncomfortable. Sitting on my belt, I have to move to the side. Why would I accommodate myself for such an event where pain should not matter? I’m forcing myself to be more comfortable for the discomfort that may follow. Pressing lightly against my shut lids, my eyes give slightly. If my eyes were avocados, they’d be ripe and ready to eat. Physical pain acts as morphine for my mental pain.
Suddenly it’s quite literally clear. I cannot even see the darkness behind the eyelids.
No vision. Good news. Closer to silence.
So I keep pressing until I’m gripping my cheekbones, managed to scratched my way through muscle tissue and am brushing my thumb against my bare skull. Blood isn’t gushing, however. It’s just dripping down my face, somehow feeling warmer than inside my body.