Intensity is a scary thing. I hate uncontrollably sobbing but I love swimming in anticipation of pleasure. Adrenaline from nervousness leaves death lingering inside my organs. Seeing someone with love spreads warmth and sunshine over my muscles. Fear makes my skin so dry and itchy I want to scrape it off. Living with intensity hurts.
I have so much on my to-do list. I overslept. I still feel tired. Is that the shape of my nose now? That is not attractive. I should put moisturizer on my face. Ick. I hate how this feels. I shouldn’t think about it. My throat hurts. I love TV. Wow, that is so sad. My throat is constricting. Let’s hem pants. Needle in, needle out. Needle in, needle out. This song reminds me of winter. Prick. Ouch. My stomach has started to ache. What did I eat today? It wasn’t very healthy. Brownie is barking. Who put her outside? My throat still hurts. My eyes sting now. I got licked. My knees are stiff. Maybe I am too fat for my frame. Too much weight is pressuring my knees. I can’t lose weight. I’m not going to cry. Mother’s Day flowers are all wilted. They don’t smell like spring anymore. The roses are black. Now my face is wet. Everything dies. My throat aches. I can’t breathe. What am I going to do about my to-do list? Tears have blurred my vision. My friends expect me at six. I am gasping for breath. Dog’s nose doesn’t seem as wet as my face. I can’t stop and I can’t breathe. My throat is on fire. I feel so sad and hopeless and tired. My neck is strained and tense. I am exhausted. I am exhausted from crying. Garbled sounds are coming out of me between frantic, heaving gasps for air. That is how I define hysteria.