I captain a ship which is letting water from holes left after a storm. The wind stress blew through me and it’s made my hard bones brittle. Now it’s hard to breathe in spite of the blue skies shouting calm into my brain. The tip of my tongue carries bitterness with the taste of love, it’s like passionfruit raw from the peel. I’m not used to this sort of pressure, this depth of feeling. I wonder if there’s something wrong with me that I make myself sick when there’s something wrong. I used to bottle things up to toss in the ocean, spinning messages to arc over my head until it hit the waves. I watched the problems float through water until they’re out of sight, and it’s like that every day. The more dolorous moments simply don’t stay, I smile instead. I catch amusement like a disease. This was different, this time it kept itself inside me even though I tried to talk about it. My throat is raw from calling out to nothing, echoes blasting my ears into the silence of alone in the house, alone in the world. This may be some days recovering. It’s begun. I’ve started coughing up thick poison.
Would the females present would please step forward and let me know if it is usual to kick off a period when under stress? There’s been blood, just enough for me to know I’m bleeding, but it’s an entire week early, when my last was a full week late. I’m not used to stress so I don’t know what to expect. So far I’ve just become strangely ill. I tend to lead a mild and cheerful life. The little things get me sometime, like they do everyone, but they tend not to impact too deeply. This is a new experience, mind dulling and uncomfortable.