I would sometimes walk to a dark corner when I feel my mind about to go.

I checked all of them.

Their throats were torn and their eyes were taken from them.

They were killed and that was as far as I could investigate.

I couldn’t tell you what I had done to myself to avoid breaking when I carried the children over to exit of the temple where I found old murals of monsters I’ve never seen before.

I guess they told a story.

I couldn’t stay focused when the children were on the floor against each-other with trails of blood leaking out the wounds behind their heels.

I didn’t know how to live when the reality kicked in when time became longer than what a dream would usually feel.

I expected death to kick in at any time like an unsuspecting black out.

I started living by following the directions of visions constantly appearing in the back of my mind.

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Walk through the hall, turn through a series of different walkways that made me feel something ominous pressuring me from going.

I know there was evil from the walls. It was the only way I could describe the unsettling emotion I felt there.

It was just an old painting, but at times I had this feeling off doom that somethings in the mural was following me.

I didn’t know what it was, but it made me want to take them away from the horror here.

Outside was safer than here.

The old me would fall in between tears and laughter because there was a madness in waking up to dead children and being haunted by images on the wall.

When I imagine how I died and the experience of what I had done to myself when I was dying.

I feel like everything goes away for a time.

Slowly the fear of being watched started to fade in me.

And I feel more comfortable than normal.

I focused the energy I’d sometimes get into taking those children out the temple.

It was what the visions showed and I choose to imitate them.

It wasn’t easy.

I didn’t know what I was doing or what would happen after they were all outside.

I didn’t have faith in the visions, but it was far better than staring blankly too the floor rethinking about my life and all the moments I could have lived.

I know if I didn’t kill myself.

I’d still be at home listening to old songs that moved me.

I wished god chose them over me.

I know if they were in my shoes.

They would have found a way.

To live a little more.

I think at times I was no different than a zombie.

Alive and overwhelmed by a compulsion with no control.