I saw a photo. I had a moment of realisation, of clarity, a miniature epiphany. I’m not sure whether this is good or bad yet.
My head is rinsed with anti-depressive drugs. Like a dash of milk to espresso, they don’t make things clear, just less dark.
Risk and reward. Adrenaline slices through. I can empathise with people who cut themselves. Self harm. Primal reality. Release through pain. Like pinching yourself to check whether you are dreaming. The first gasp of air after a nightmare. Oxygen flushing through. Heightened heart rate. Hot tears.
I saw a photo. A future. Risk. Reward?
I obviously want to know what the photo is now.
Self-harm is an odd one, cutting seen as wrong, running so hard it hurts fine.