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Lights shine like birthday candles; they are warm and inviting.

Conversations are welcoming and intriguing.

I have been making some of the best art I have ever seen.

It is clear to tell they care about me, and that I will be remembered.


Light is starting to become an irritating sting to the back of my eyes, I always hated white light.

White light feels like needles instead of warm candles.

The words I once welcomed now feel like they are being shoved between my ears.

My wrist is burning from trying to pump out work, I just have to finish this one detail…

I am sure they will not mind if I slip away to recharge, we all need that once in a while.


The needles now are larger and hurt from the front of my eyes as well.

Ears now full of noise I cannot differentiate or comprehend, it all hurts me.

God, has my art always looked like this? Why are the lines so shaky? I swear they did not look like that before.

I want to leave but I don’t know if they will notice my disappearance or not.


Everything is becoming a quiet buzz now, but not in a way that is comforting.

It feels like I am underwater and I can’t get out.

I don’t want to be a bother, I will continue to be silent to make sure they know I like being around them.

But I don’t know if they can tell I am still here.


This is the worst kind of sensory deprivation.

Everything but nothing at the same time.

Like I am outside of my body, trapped in the brain.

I need someone to look at me, notice something is wrong.

Please just speak clearly so I know you can see me.

I cannot fathom being forgotten; it has happened before.

I do not want it to happen again. I have finally gotten all the company I wanted.

I cannot let that go.

I do not want to disappear.


There is something ironic about being afraid of being forgotten with a mind that likes to shut everything out.

Something ironic about wanting to disappear, but not wanting to be forgotten.

I am now learning I do not want to do either.

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