Crashing

Darren walked in to his flat and went straight to the kitchen. He was morbidly depressed. He had been fired which ment he was bored which ment he was thinking. In the kitchen he turned on the radio tuned it to white noise and turned up the volume. He loved white noise it was piercing and monotonous enough to block out the visions but this time it just wasn't quiet workin so he went to plan B. He opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out some thin bleach. He half filled a mug with it and topped it off with water before chuging it down. The pain and the noise together just about stopped not just the vision but the thought that he had resently lost his virginity...by proxy.

A few moments later he was bent over the sink wreching. I felt like all his internal organs where verying to jump up his troat at once, and he loved it.When his organs desided to settle again he turned the radio further up and grabbed tthe bleach, taking sips of the cleaning fluid he staggered to the thermostate and thurned it right up. He couldn't remember when he had started doing these thing but only that the more uncomfortable he was the less visions he got. The only other way of dealing with them had been to keep busy after people selecting what he saw as he tracked them. That was over, why didn't he just chug down the bleachtake a few pills and go to sleep? Now that was an idea!