My ears have blocked out all noise, except the mocking race of my heart beat, and any footsteps.
My ears have blocked out all noise, except the mocking race of my heart beat, and any footsteps. I can't think straight. My temperature is rising, and I'm growing paler by the second. I don't know how it started. Was it the medication? The stress? I think my heart is mocking me. It just won't quiet. I keep trying to hear, but nothing makes it through the rough. I constantly feel as if I'm being watched, but nobody is around. Nobody trusts me anymore.
They haven't in a while.
The people surrounding me don't believe that I matter. They don't know it, but they make it worse. I can't move. Music makes it worse. Thinking makes it worse. My breathing has changed. My heartbeat is making my hands shake. I can't feel my fingertips. My heart is now jumping at every beat.
What have I done?
I can't understand light. It distracts me... and causes my headaches to grow more and more fearsome. Every thing effects me. Everything is making me squirm. My entire body is shaking now. My eyesight is going in and out. Every time I move, it becomes more. I feel paranoid.
I don't understand.
My feet guide me away from my bedroom, and out the door. I'm wandering down the sidewalk barefoot, shivering and shaking every which way. I look around. My eyesight may be blurred, but I see your house. I walk toward it and find that you're home. I knock, and you answer. I take in the sight of your worried expression, and the seriousness of your eyes, almost hidden under your beautiful shaggy brown hair.
"Lilly, what's wrong?" You ask.
I just keep shaking. You envelop me in a tight hug, restricting my body from its previous shaking.
What is this? I can't move. I'm trapped. My eyes have begun to shake in every direction. They are searching for it.
For something to fix me.
I stare up at you, terrified.
"Can you fix me?" I ask.
Loliver oneshot. I haven't written Loliver in so long.
This goes out to everyone who likes my stories. To everyone who doesn't bother me because I have Jonas/Hannah Montana stories. To everyone who still reads my stuff.
I love you guys.
I hate you if you are trying to change me.
This is something I wrote one night when I was on a trip or something. My body just started freaking out. I don't do drugs, but somehow, I just... I dunno. It was awful, and it felt like acid or something. This is how I felt.
Love you guys,
Emilie