fff#81

nolan died, then tony died, and i couldn't write. couldn't think.
my latest-ever-submitted flash fiction friday #81; [inclusions] trigger: blood, bite, sting, fight, swing.

not real. not true. tell yourself: not real, not true.
if you tell yourself hard enough, if you insist, the universe go make it so. no?
yes.
not real.
not true.
that feeling, that tingly feeling, tiptoeing, racing up your spine and spreading from the back of your neck to trill behind your ears…that feeling? ignore it. it not real, not true.
sometimes blood rush because tha’s wha’ blood do; biology always on the move; spidey-senses spin salacious stories but sometimes a random feeling just random, because, life, existence, being human…
just be and let be.
let it be.
dismiss the pricking anxiety. fight the urge to wildly assume then conjecture scenarios of graphic extremity. you know your imagination swing wilder than most realities.
you know better and only you run you. bite the inside of your lip, just enough to bring focus to physical pain, to what is, what you know, what real, true. do not let your paranoia best you.
tell yourself the turning in your stomach is gas.
tell yourself the fine hairs bristling do not know everything, or even anything, perhaps.
tell yourself what these feelings tell you not real, not true:

not every time your earlobes sting you getting horn.

walk good.