Wrapped in plastic

There are colors and sounds, movement. Muted. Cotton in my ears that has filled my head, causing a delay. That should have made me laugh, the voice says. This should make me cry. This is easier. Angry. That small thing, that you might laugh at on another day, today makes an inferno, some might call anger, roar through me while the voice in the back says to just breathe. This is all a dream. None of your feelings are real for that part has been overtaken. You’ve been wrapped in plastic, so you must wait until your sell by date comes round again and you can continue to live and laugh again.

dear friends, please put me on the shelf, safe from myself, until I can live again in this traitorous body.