The Stimulated Mermaid’s Complaint
People say it must feel like constant ecstasy – a private paradise – and I do say they’re right sometimes. But really it’s like millions of tiny, working bees buzzing just below the surface of my skin and pressing outward or sometimes they fly in circles around my organs like a migraine, murmuring backhanded comments. I always hear the ticking of a hair cutter on a hard floor and that floor is a soundstage right behind my eyes. I’d shake your hand if my hands weren’t shaking – all I do is shake. I’m going through withdrawal constantly and having to withdraw because I’m supposed to be satisfied but I’m only left woozy, whirling in place and sick beyond just retching in a toilet – I can barely keep food down. Aren’t you empowered? Doesn’t it feel good? How can I enjoy anything when my body is a sander with no off switch and the cord won’t come out of the wall? I am given no choice but to feel all the time and it isn’t normal yet. I’m just numb and dizzy – some call me their best friend. It isn’t enough. Turn me off or at least down a little. It’s the opposite of ecstasy and I fear even once I’m dead I’ll be held to the buzzing bees.