Some days I really do feel entirely out of my mind.
There's been this entrancing hall in my mind that takes me somewhere away from myself.
I learned to do this since I was young, so that I could function like a civilized human being, an actress of sorts.
I have the keys, and there are so many trap doors before the door at the end of this hall.
Describing it is impossible. The more I try the more obscure everything seems.

Like jagged clouds painted on a wall that when you stare long enough at them, they start to move. Or how everything has traces of lime green and purple, no matter where I look though no one else ever sees it. How my cat sees the shadows form in the corner above my bed when I'm bed ridden with depression.
And how I'm absolutely terrified that things are going too well, too amazingly, too beautifully.
My life feels so good. I feel after everything I have gone through, run from, crawled through, pushed passed, has cleared and I'm in a fresh field.

The grass is absolutely perfect, lush and green, speckled with small white and blue flowers and there are tiny delicate butterflies floating back and forth. There is nothing else in sight, just beauty. The sky is peaceful, no animals are harmed. The climate is warm and crisp.
I can lay down and sleep for as long as I want, twirl and spin, somersault, sing, and no one is going to tell me I'm not allowed.
Like a mirrored heart, bursting, full and warm. Like the colors orange and purple.
Everything has been combined in a pleasurable manner to create complete perfection.
I can't stop laughing.
This echoing excitement fills my inside.

Close my eyes and run with it? I'm wide fucking open.
We can paint everything how we've always wanted it to be.
 I feel everything.
Everything.