Can't phrase this with actual words:
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Even when things are going nicely (Girl is sweet), my mind is a horrible place. If only I weren't insane. Somehow, I'm half inclined to wish for someone to cure me, but on the other hand, my mad poetry and beautiful music wouldn't be a thing without me fearing the voices on the way home. Currently everything is loud and I can't express it properly though a keyboard. I can't explain the pressure at my forehead, like some kind of demonic abomination staring into my eyes, its face towards mine, its heavy forehead leaning into mine.