Achh!
It's official.
I've gone insane.
I feel like the woman from The Yellow Wallpaper, creeping around her room at night, clinging to the walls, watching the flowers on her wallpaper slither around, seeing a woman on the other side, trapped behind the flowers, ripping and tearing at the wallpaper, finally driven mad to the point of believing she WAS the woman in the wall.
All because they prescribed her bedrest for her illness.
My red walls are driving me insane. I hate them. Haaate them. Yesterday, I almost rushed down to the garage to grab a bucket of paint, ANY color, and frantically start splashing it on the walls. I would have too, had I not been too weak and dizzy to leave my bed.
They are no longer an exuberant, bright color, full of outgoingness and cheer. They are the color of blood and anger and RAGE! Okay, okay, not quite. But they are the farthest thing from quieting.
3 days stuck in bed does a number on one's nerves.
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