I look at your yellow rotted teeth trying to ignore the pungency of ammonia and sweat as I watch your broken soul peek out from behind your dark encircled eyes. Life's abandoned marionette with all your strings cut, jerking around on my couch as you tap your uncoordinated feet like a rogue morse code machine. Your meth-using parents cut most of your strings before you were eight years-old and then taught you how to cut your own strings, hurtling you into a lifetime of self-destruction. The only escape from the pain is the glass bubble, a spiraling curl of greenish smoke spreading like spilled ink to blot out the agony of your very existence. Yet you ask me to fix you, to re-attach the string
Have you checked your email today? How many times? How many video games have you played? You watch any YouTube today? Is the TV on right now along with streaming or maybe Netflix, Hulu or Roku? Or heaven forbid, you're binging on CNN or Fox News, filling your head with all that news, fake or otherwise, depending on your viewpoint. You doing Twitter, Instagram, WhatsApp, Facebook or some other social media? But what do all these have in common? Sensory input and sensory stimulation, the more the merrier (or depressing/irritating). And then you wonder why you feel your anxiety is gradually on the increase as time goes by. Or that maybe you can't sleep as well at night and wonder what's wrong.
