Paralyzed with halucinations

His modesty was apparent to me, yet simply a matter of fact to him. I’d seen artistry in physical form before but it was always corrupted, contaminated by a contradictive soul. A cold-hearted and ill-favored spirit makes malignant such pulchritude, so becomes what of its purpose?

This paragraph is a snippet from my personal writing. Words and breathings only spoken, only expelled in the privacy of myself. I cannot disclose the purpose of this eventual book, and I cannot speak of its plot. But know that the breathings of both my heart and soul, the inked shapes of each individual letter, the canvas that is paper, the art that is words. Come from a place that knows no name, knows no agenda, no influence. The pureity is blinding.

Don't be repelled by the long words, the question, the statement simply says, that yes I had seen beauty before the personality ruined it, destroyed it, beauty is worthless if the person makes it so.

I state this because I have known what I thought to be the most beautiful, amazing walking peice of art, and then became aware of all the faults, how the colours just didn't match. Now, I know of beauty with all of its matching colours, the detail, like that of Canalettos.

At the moment, writing this, I am ill with the depression, no knives or scissors in hand granted, but sleep paralyses and reoccuring halucinations continue to haunt me.

Let me explain....

Sleep paralysis is meant to last moments or minutes, yet when the depression kicks in and I lay on the bed, conscious yet unconcious completely paralyzed, I am unable to move, speak, anything, as if my soul is watching over my body, laying lifelessly, it continued for about an hour and a half. When this occurs my mind takes its chance to enforce flashbacks, halucinations. Because I am unable to fight or call for help or anything, my mind puts me back in the place of the victim, I can see certain things, or my mind twists them. As I lay on my back, facing the wall, hand dangling of the side of the bed I saw the arm of a man, my halucinations lead me to beleive a man I had never seen before was.... well.... you know.

Compeltely paralyzed, is it meant to scare me? Is it a warning or a flashback? The man was brunette, my fear of blondes is dieing down, if my twisted brain enforces some kind of fear towards brunettes, then well.... my fate is that of a Spinster isn't it really. Sorry Mom, no Grandkids for you :p

I've had this experience before, a few times, but never so visionally evident as earlier. I cannot remember it all, just bits and peices. I should stress this is not a dream, I am not asleep when this is happening, I am awake and conscious just completely paralyzed, my overactive imagination jumps at the chance to taunt me a little more.

There is no harm in sleep paralysis and I only label it as this to make sense of the expereince some more, Sleep paralysis by nature is not common, whether for me, it is a side effect of my depression or whether it is just another thing to add to the list, I do not know. And I do not fear it. I am left greatly on edge afterwards, a little unsure and it takes me some time to return back to what is reality, what is present, but the only harm is that of my mind.

One I am fixing.

For a lot of us, whether you can relate to me, or whether you just read this for entertainment and curiosity, the mind is the most harmful thing to exist, that we will ever be within the company of. And my mind though it goes off on a tangent and my imagination is as much a friend as it is an enemy, I can't say I would change it.

But dear self, I would really appreciate it if you would let me move my body when I want to, I mean seriously, I could die of thirst whilst waiting for you to let me move a leg.

All my love

JulietX

This would legit be me, yanno, if i could like... move :P

Anybody wanna give me a hug? Nope ok, I'll just sit here and hug my blanket, totally didn't want one anyways.