‘I am in our old house again. It starts out as it always does, normally. I am sitting in front of the window, sketching out the landscape I can see from my window. It's nothing new or fancy. It's normal and boring but...I draw it a lot, it's practically etched into my brain now. The process is meditative, it helps me detach from reality and ignore everything around me. 

But today, something is different. My arm is getting a little stiff from the same line I keep drawing over. And the thin single stroke has grown into a thick gnarly thing. I am ruining the sketch but I can't seem to stop myself. It's almost as if I am trapped inside my own body. 

My arm picks up speed and moves ferociously, tearing a hole through the paper. Panic starts to bubble within me but I am trapped. Trapped in my own body and I can not move. I open my mouth to shout for help but nothing comes out. Instead, a large lungful of smoke crushes through my open mouth and nostrils. 

That's when I noticed it. Under all that choking and panic that's strangling me. I finally noticed what was wrong. The room is on fire and the flames have created a hot suffocating circle around me. They are coming for me now. A small strained cough escapes my chapped dry lips. Despite my efforts, it doesn't leave in time. The flames catch up to me and singe the hairs on my arms as they lick the edges of my skin ...’

My eyes open and I take in the view. My room is not on fire but there is sweat soaking through my pyjamas leaving damp patches on my blue sheets. I sat up and pulled the damp sheets with me. It was another nightmare. Well, the same nightmare, just in a totally different form. My heartbeat slowed down finally bringing me back to the present and with a deep sigh, I pushed the covers off my body and looked over at my younger brother's sleeping form. Lucky bastard. 

I walked over to my desk and sat in the office chair, wincing when it squeaked its signature squeak. Something that happened every time I sat in it. It was a few squeaks away from breaking down, I could tell from the wear and tear and the obvious loose wheel that prevented it from rolling around the room like it used to. I switched on my laptop camera and sat in front of it. A few clicks and a short exhale later I began my so-called video diary. Another one of those assignments my therapist loved to give.