Sometimes at night the fires in my head burn so hot they scorch the walls and leave black spots on the ceiling.
Sometimes the things under my skin try to burrow their way out and I have to press my back against the wall to keep them down.
Sometimes they make in through, but they can't leave all the way, so I'll have to walk around with oozing sores on my back that soak through my shirts and leave marks that don't wash out, no matter how much Oxyclean I use.
Sometimes the songs in my head (and there's always more than one) get so loud that my ears bleed and eyes water and I can't even walk, even though the music's inside my head, not outside.
Sometimes when I hold my breath, gills open up on the side of my neck, looking for water, even if I'm on dry land.
Sometimes I hear rocks crying and mountains weeping and the stars laughing at them. The stars sound the way tinfoil feels when you bite it.
Sometimes the whole world goes black and there's nothing nothing nothing, not even me, and the nothing lasts forever, but then the alarm will buzz or the cat will paw my face and my eyes open and the nothing is gone, replaced by everything. (But I know the nothing will come back, someday, and it will stay.)
Sometimes I find long, pale feathers on the carpet. We don't have birds.
Sometimes there are footprints on the steps outside my house. They are far too big to be normal feet, and they have an extra toe at the end and little pointed indentations that remind me of claws.
Sometimes I feel broken glass piercing my feet when I walk, even when the floor is clean.
Sometimes I hear mama calling me from the kitchen, but when I go in, there's nobody there. Mama's been dead for years.
Sometimes, if I stand still for too long, I can feel the ground moving. I feel the planet turning and feel Earth hurtling through space at thousands and thousands and thousands of miles per hour and I can see the infinite void full of stars and blackness and depth and I just start crying.
Sometimes I wear the color blue.
Sometimes I wear the color black.
Sometimes there are no colors at all and everything is gray, but not gray because there is no gray, either.
Sometimes, I look up at the sky and see all the stars at once, millions and billions and trillions and gazillions of tiny white and yellow and red and orange and blue dots suddenly shining into view all at the same time and the night sky is full of light, brighter than day, with no room for the blue or blackness of sky and I have to run inside before my eyes burn out.
Sometimes I wake up.