What Doesn't Matter here?

There's a kind of buzzing in the head. A kind of "No, No, No" of arms that want to flail. Somehow, physically to feel something smart, sting, tear, crush. No no NO. A kind of bursting. But you can't go downstairs read your book. We can't go downstairs. She's crying. What has fallen? What's happening? What if what's happening is worse than anything that's happened so far and it will be too late?

Everything will be destroyed, the whole world up in flames, but that's already happened anyway...twice? And only one of us in intesnsive care with a melted face. Although it did also turn into an insurance battle too, which only made sense decades later.

Was it a court case? Or were the police just investigating? Why were the police investigating? Or was fraud discovered and he tried to blame her?

Anyway, just quiet, you'll only make things worse. How did it make things worse though? She became panicked and therefore did something that made him very angry? She did something. You hear that? Like it was her fault.

It was the way of crying that was the worst, a total wetness of the  mouth as if the head was dissolving from the inside out, out of sheer despair. Lines blurring together. OR was it that that the face was dissolving from the inside while being pummelled from the outside? Yes, definitely that. Definitely that. Wet mouth, so wet! So despairing. Don't go down.

But the feeling of bursting it had nowhere to go.

It didn't matter. The maelstrom mattered, around those beings of a greater size, caught as they were in an an undignified, brutal and terrifying dance of Thanatos.

You want to burst? That doesn't matter here. Cry? Stop it for the love of God. That doesn't matter here. You want it to stop. Of course you want it to stop. Even the police want it to stop. That doesn't matter here.