My mind finally broke and it broke while I was inside it. There are worse places to write from, I'm sure. It happened innocently enough. I started by focusing on this old time store I used to go to when I was a kid. It's still there, Tackett's Market in Virgie, ________. But I focused on Tackett's Market — the block building, the smell of fruits and vegetables dying somewhere under fluorescent light, the rattle clash snap of the metal cash register, the handmade wooden shelf above the front door entrance, this in particular. On that wooden shelf is a toy I want in the most desperate way. I'm looking at it right now. It's Kit from Knight Rider with a little Michael Hasselhoff action figure complete with blue jeans and a black leather jacket. This is my broken mind, a 1980s toy in a small town market where fruit spoils and a bell tinkles every time someone comes or leaves. I knew if I focused too intently there was the chance I wouldn't come back. I think a part of me wanted this to happen. The world now, the real world, can hardly compare to how the world felt when I was ten. And I can try and try but I will never be able to express to you in words what a broken mind can do when given room to run.
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