
Sometimes I scream. A sharp intake, a swell of the chest, a clenched throat and the release of a gravelling tone. My eyes hit the roof of my lids, my neck cranes back and I grip my hair with both of my hands. I don’t know what to do, and I am afraid. The alternatives go through my mind in seconds. By brain processes each one-check…check…check…check…check. Nope, it’s no use. No matter what I do I will cause harm. There is no right way out of this mess. There is just a screw up. I am a screw up.




