Los Pensamientos

It was a fleeting feeling. Freedom. Grandeur. Calmness. Excitement. Even ambition. She tried to hold onto it, to photograph it, to remember it, clutched at it so desperately that she left behind claw-marks and broken fingernails. It was like trying to hold water in your hands, impossible, water always dripping through the fleshy containers, pressed together tightly, but not enough, never enough.

She knew. Knew that when the water trickled away, when it was all gone, as it inevitably would be, the thoughts would come back. Those dark ones, the ones that people never like talking about, the ones that, from a single spore, breed their way into an infestation, into a corruption so complete that destruction seems like the only option. The thoughts that feel like worms wriggling, burrowing, into every crease of your brain, releasing toxins into every cell of your consciousness.

The thoughts that drown you above water.

The thoughts that take until there’s nothing left to give. And then they take some more.

She tried to hold onto it, to photograph it, to remember it. And some days it worked.

And others, it didn’t.

image by me @andy_illustrates