let me tell you the story of the little man.
the little man takes up many forms. a man. a woman. a boy. a girl. a human. sometimes a cloud of smoke.
the little man drills and leaves pain, from left to right, back to front.
the little man whispers - deadly, silent whispers. sometimes its whispers turn into words scribbled on a dirty wall. words of anxiety and disappointment. criticism, harsh, cold, but true criticism.
the little man talks to me. the little man with its little voice talks to me. the little voice can take over any time - if I lose my guard. I can endure noises, but I cannot endure the loudest silence that it creates.
all I can say is that these days, the little man is slowly filling my mind with guilt, worries, exhaustion, and disappointment. I feel my positive energy being slowly drained out day after day.
so I blame the little man.
then it blames me back.
and this vicious cycle begin again.