I can remember certain feelings, but I can’t feel very well.
I can’t hold someone’s hand because my hands over grip. They squeeze very hard. They open and close rapidly and flail around, until they stop.
My skin cannot be touched, even through my clothes because it is excruciatingly painful and over sensitive.
All my muscles and bones pull in every direction in constant contraction.
As soon as I initiate a movement a whole Cascade of jerks and flailing moments ensue until it stops and stiffens again.
For the first time in my life people are scared of me.
Return to the Poetry Collection
Mad in America hosts blogs by a diverse group of writers. These posts are designed to serve as a public forum for a discussion—broadly speaking—of psychiatry and its treatments. The opinions expressed are the writers’ own.
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