Itty Bitty Footnotes

So, I'm writing this in tiny text.

Right now, the internalised converations (i.e that which is within my head) have become external. I hate how I keep tracking my progress as if I could psychoanalyse myself, and in any lesser extent prescribe and demand.
This morning, I had the worst nightmare I have had since I was 15.
I was fighting men at the foot of my stairs, the lights were on upstairs but it was dark in the basement. The first round of guys were easy. The second too.
The third were asian and had big red BMXs, they tried to break open my skull with the frame and one caught me half way down the stairs and strangled me with the bike chain. I fought them off with the other BMX when they did that and they spilled down into a pile by the wardrobe.
Then came number 4. Time for WAVE FOUR. He was fat, squat and lank, sick with the stench of malificence. We fought CQC for a while, but I knew he was toying with me. I was his game. He was my nemesis. We drank in the predictability of our thoughts and letters andhe tore me apart, ripping out threads of hair. Then, he tipped me upside down and dug his nails into my ass, growling "You little fucking slut, still loose from last time eh?", before shoving himself inside me.


I woke up. I wanted to scream, and I did. More than that, I wanted to cry, but it didn't hurt where it should. In my nightmare, I felt every rip, tear and forcible entry into every orifice. When I woke up, I was almost numb. That was worse than the physical pain.

I don't want to wake up to the feeling of anal rape any more.

KTHXBAI