Status: Lost this in the Mibba crash, and just got back to posting it. Comments=Updates! (:
Unforgotten
Chapter Two
August 22, 2006
I had a flashback last night, again. I laid still in my flat mattress bed, as I tried to fight it off. I whispered to myself, words of possible hope. My psychologist told me to try something like this next time I was in this situation. So, I whispered the words quietly to myself.
“It's over now. You're going to be okay.”
The scenes flashed again, like a movie.
“You're going to be okay.”
Scream.
Get out of my fucking head!
I bent my knees up to my chest, and wrapped my arms around my knees, as I sobbed silently. I wanted more than anything for the memories to get out of my head. I just wanted them to leave. I couldn't stand the constant reminder that my parents fell from the sky, right before my eyes. I don't want to always remember that I was forced to sleep outside, because I had no room, for five years. But I can never forget any of it, I'm trapped remembering everything.
Pain coursed through my abdomen, and head. I clutched my stomach, as tears flowed down my cheeks. I shook, and clutched a pillow close to me. I felt as if I was being ripped apart, limb by limb. I felt obligated to scream, but didn't, yet. I still felt that if I let anyone know, they would be judgmental. If I asked for any help, I would be ignored.
It got harder and harder to hold back the screams. I felt more an more trapped, I kept hearing the same exact words, and screams ringing in my head. Even as I cupped my ears, and tried to shut the noise out, I still heard them. Everything was coming back full force. I was far too much for me to handle.
“Help!”
The scream came out, unexpected. I didn't expect that out of nowhere, I would scream, and hope for somebody to rush to my side, and comfort me. I cried harder, my entire body racking with sobs. I kept thinking someone would come in my room, but it turned out that it didn't work like that around here. Someone screaming out for help in the night was normal. They would eventually go to sleep.
No one came that night. I kept thinking they would. Maybe it was just like the life I used to have. Constantly locked up, praying for someone to come save me. As much as I screamed for help, no one heard through the layers of duck tape that covered my mouth. I couldn't scream for help. Who was I to think that someone cared enough to come save me? That was a laughing matter. I was hopeless. I shouldn't ever imagine in any way that that would ever happen.
I didn't sleep, I shook through the night. I cried some, and then just laid there, cold and tired, praying that eventually, I would sleep. I never got to sleep, I woke up, the sun shining through the room- dimming blinds, against a small square shaped window above my bed.
Now, I'm writing this. I finally stopped crying. Now, I'm awake, and I have to write this, for my psychologist, so he can read my experience last night. He can read it, and try to discuss it with me. He'll mix compassion, and sympathy, as I look at him, through tired eyes. He'll end the session, and tell me I need to open up more.
I'm just too much for him. I'm too much for anybody.
I'm just nowhere near good enough.
I had a flashback last night, again. I laid still in my flat mattress bed, as I tried to fight it off. I whispered to myself, words of possible hope. My psychologist told me to try something like this next time I was in this situation. So, I whispered the words quietly to myself.
“It's over now. You're going to be okay.”
The scenes flashed again, like a movie.
“You're going to be okay.”
Scream.
Get out of my fucking head!
I bent my knees up to my chest, and wrapped my arms around my knees, as I sobbed silently. I wanted more than anything for the memories to get out of my head. I just wanted them to leave. I couldn't stand the constant reminder that my parents fell from the sky, right before my eyes. I don't want to always remember that I was forced to sleep outside, because I had no room, for five years. But I can never forget any of it, I'm trapped remembering everything.
Pain coursed through my abdomen, and head. I clutched my stomach, as tears flowed down my cheeks. I shook, and clutched a pillow close to me. I felt as if I was being ripped apart, limb by limb. I felt obligated to scream, but didn't, yet. I still felt that if I let anyone know, they would be judgmental. If I asked for any help, I would be ignored.
It got harder and harder to hold back the screams. I felt more an more trapped, I kept hearing the same exact words, and screams ringing in my head. Even as I cupped my ears, and tried to shut the noise out, I still heard them. Everything was coming back full force. I was far too much for me to handle.
“Help!”
The scream came out, unexpected. I didn't expect that out of nowhere, I would scream, and hope for somebody to rush to my side, and comfort me. I cried harder, my entire body racking with sobs. I kept thinking someone would come in my room, but it turned out that it didn't work like that around here. Someone screaming out for help in the night was normal. They would eventually go to sleep.
No one came that night. I kept thinking they would. Maybe it was just like the life I used to have. Constantly locked up, praying for someone to come save me. As much as I screamed for help, no one heard through the layers of duck tape that covered my mouth. I couldn't scream for help. Who was I to think that someone cared enough to come save me? That was a laughing matter. I was hopeless. I shouldn't ever imagine in any way that that would ever happen.
I didn't sleep, I shook through the night. I cried some, and then just laid there, cold and tired, praying that eventually, I would sleep. I never got to sleep, I woke up, the sun shining through the room- dimming blinds, against a small square shaped window above my bed.
Now, I'm writing this. I finally stopped crying. Now, I'm awake, and I have to write this, for my psychologist, so he can read my experience last night. He can read it, and try to discuss it with me. He'll mix compassion, and sympathy, as I look at him, through tired eyes. He'll end the session, and tell me I need to open up more.
I'm just too much for him. I'm too much for anybody.
I'm just nowhere near good enough.