Conversations filled with the thoughts of those around me.

Vicious thoughts that would cause most to flee.

To leave and cleanse themselves in fear of catching this dreadful disease.

Who knew thoughts were contagious?

Who knew I could be so easily swayed?

Thrown into this life of decay, I stayed.

Listening and reassuring, all the while losing myself in this awful uncertainty.

Time drags it's feet as the disease roots itself into my mind.

Overflowing with thoughts, all of which are unkind.

Space allowed a moment of security.

Only to relapse under their careless scrutiny.

Oblivious or uncaring to the affect of their words.

The disease is overcoming.

My imperfections are now a beat in my head sounded by an all too familiar drumming.

The disease of self image has no cure.

Even for those so seemingly pure.

The constant expression of thoughts is all it takes to want to be perfected.

I am affected.