My thumb would fold into my palm with the remaining fingers wrapped tightly around it. The hand in question would be the right one. On cue, my entire arm would curl into my body pushing against my chin while my eyes remained tightly shut.

Get a grip. I’d lost control. The unusualness of the warmth in my palm wakes me to this realization.

This is the physicality of my subconscious. My thoughts are far away from me. The grip in my right hand and the bend in my body anchors me.

I’m far away from my thoughts. I’m the one that’s gone, the direct object without my subject but the body intervenes.

I is the mind. I get lost, only to be revived by the energy being created in this tight grip. I’ve caught myself many times in that darkness.

What’s on my mind?

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