DisturbancesThe world, a mass of gray, held up in the sky by the purest hope of normalcy. It steadily drips down onto her head, she hisses with every disturbance. Drip drip, it will never cease, just like the voices that so secretivley whisper as if anyone besides her could hear them. The pencil in her hand. It squeaks with every marking. Drip drip, squeak squeak. So many disturbances... logic will not suffice. She cannot move, she cannot talk, she cannot wonder why. Held by the chains of her own mind, restraining imagination for the sake of sanity. Is this wise, a question she cannot ask, for her mentalities carry on through the fog. Drip drip, squeak s