My Comatose, In Slow Motion

The change in light casts a hazy orange glow on the world.
I take five steps forward, followed by a worried glance at my surroundings.
I stop dead, and my mouth drops open, as I am struck by an unexplainable bolt of trepidation.
Something so simple as the Sun sends shivers down my spine. The soaked pavement holds no answers, as I drop my gaze.
I stand, my confused thoughts repeating themselves for a few seconds, until I lift my eyes, and rub my face.
I feel so wrong.
"You're not real." The wind seems to whisper to me, as it softly brushes my hair back.
The smell of fresh rain hangs beautifully in the late afternoon air.
Oh, how I love the rain, but for some inexplicable reason, I cannot enjoy this natural beauty, as more waves of, in itself unnerving, terror wash over me.
Questions about existence rush quite suddenly into my unprotected consciousness.
Is this a memory that I never called upon before?
Am I to be forever trapped into this memory-like state?
This is a living nightmare.
I spin around to notice the equally as confused faces of my innocent peers.
Do they too feel so agitated by this abnormality?
I have so little to live for now.
Destiny wraps my puny existence around its finger, and laughs as I cry out for mercy.
This worrying state drives every miniscule droplet of sanity out of my mind, with it's sudden, strange, terror.
I am forever trapped now.

And I stand, watching my comatose begin, in slow motion.
 

The End

1 comment about this exercise Feed