I hear a faint cracking sound. I ignore it.
I’m too busy thinking that people don’t like me anymore. People are mad at me for something that I have said or done. Every thing that I say is embarrassingly stupid. I know I have been making a fool of myself for some time. Every kind of art I do is garbage. Every word I write is juvenile and amateurish.
It just happens. One day I wake up and I sincerely believe that all of this is reality.
I keep it to myself because no one takes me seriously. They think I am being ridiculous. They see no evidence to support any of it.
Sometimes it lasts for days or weeks. It makes me want to avoid people or at least not talk to them. It keeps me from attempting any creative tasks. It makes me very sad.
Its disappearance is a great relief. But I’m not so sure that the replacement is really me.
Am I the one who feels just good enough? Or am I the useless, hopeless, borderline crazy one?
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