I used to think of my mind as a cloud.
A white cloud.
A white, spacious cloud.
Thoughts constantly float around inside it, with strings hanging from them.
Colorful strings, to decorate the empty, white space.
Sometimes the thoughts linger on the front of my head, wanting to be heard and seen.
And sometimes they shrink in the back, hiding from themselves.
But now, the white, spacious cloud is a tiny, black one, raining all over my body, freezing my limbs and leaving me damp, unable to react.
And suddenly, the strings tied to my thoughts, now carry cans, which make awful noises.
They drag along my skull, scratching the inside of my mind and trying to deafen me.
"Listen to me!" they say.
"Pick me!" "Hear me out!"
"Let me out through your voice"
"Or ill hurt the people you love"