Welcome to the mess of neuronal signalling and decaying cortexes. The crumbling limbic system and exhausted amygdala. Welcome. Make yourself at home between the deposits of serotonin which are slowly collecting dust beneath the neural pathways.
To your right you will be greeted with the total loss of tonic inhibitory control as my hypothalamic stress-response system goes into override. If you stand too close you will be knocked backwards by the constant stabbing of alpha waves which align with the beating of my heart. I don’t like to stay here for too long but I seem to find myself constantly entangled within the train of thoughts which run at 200 mph. I can’t keep up but I have to.
Walk a little further and you will find a ghost walking in a circle. Round and round. There is nothing left but the need to repeat. The ghost’s feet are stained crimson and his body reeks of exhaustion. But he can’t stop even though every fibre in his body is screaming for rest. The dizziness causes confusion and the confusion causes disorientation and the disorientation causes sickness. A sickness called obsessive compulsive disorder. A sickness that never stops.
Glance to your left and you will see nothing for miles and miles. A strange numbness will encompass your lungs and slow your breathing until your state of consciousness is questionable. You will be left with nothing but the urge to sleep within minutes as the nothingness shreds every last piece of cortisol in your glands. I think it’s something about the atmosphere here. It takes too much effort to feel sad.
Keep walking and you’ll find the jury. For a long time this jury was unanimous in its verdict. The weight must lost and the goal must be achieved. I was sentenced to a lifetime of locking the world away and scaring my Mum so much she couldn’t sleep. Slowly the jury began to fall apart and the deliberations took longer. Voices were raised and teeth gritted in the face of the sentencing. I think it has come to the point of a hung jury and nobody seems to be shifting their decision. Maybe it’s up to me.
In a corner at the back is a spot I forgot existed. Small but enough to provide some sort of hope. Against the curtain of hyperactivity and numbness this crevice taints my brain with a peculiar yellow. A yellow that my eyes had almost forgotten how to see.