My room.
I tried to move, but this request to get up and walk ten feet to my room was too large to squeeze through the suffocating mass of flash backs.
I didn't move. I felt paralyzed. Even my lungs didn't cooperate. I couldn't breathe. The only thing that could move at all was my head, and only barely. My jaw was tight, but my mouth managed to open, and I tried to scream...but my lungs...
I couldn't breathe. My vocal chords were clenched together, and refused to move. So my mouth was left wrenched open, and I couldn't make myself close it despite the apparent lack of noise.
Still, the air seemed disquieted. I could almost see the shockwaves my pain had caused.
My room. I tried the request again. If someone walked into my apartment right now...what would they think? Insane. Unstable. Dangerous. Crazy. Run.
I'd seen these conclusions drawn too many times to think that anything else would happen.
My room! I wanted to scream. I could close the door in my room. I just had to get past the threshold...but I couldn't even get off the couch.
My lungs burned. If I had just inhaled smoke for three hours I would have been able to breathe better. At least my lungs would have attempted to contract.
I finally managed to inhale a short gasp of air, and a sob escaped from my vocal chords. I started to retch, and my stomach heaved with an emptiness that I didn't find very different than my life.
I collapsed further into the couch, and my fist went into my mouth to stop the sounds. I didn't want to scare any of my neighbors. I didn't want them to hear me scream.
I felt my teeth graze a knuckle on my right hand, and my mind registered pain and small release of blood.
I froze again, a now-natural response to my own blood. I couldn't afford let any more out. I couldn't start that addictive cycle again.
My hand and arm shook as I slowly forced my hand away from my teeth. The tremor moved down my right side and spread to the rest of my body, and I shook on the couch. I tried to curl up into the fetal position, to get some comfort from my own body, but my agony ripped my body apart from itself. I felt too exposed, and even though I was fully clothed, I felt naked. Anyone could hurt me while I was this incapacitated.
I looked at my right hand and saw a small pool of blood.
Danger.
Unstable.
Insane.
I wrenched my neck and buried my head into the couch. I let the upholstery absorb the sound of my sobs and screams. Tears chased each other down my cheeks as memory after memory rushed into my mind.
My mind isn't safe.
Walls.
Get her out...
Strapped down, paralyzed, electrocuted...
It's okay.
He loved me once.
Why did he lie?
Swallow the pills
No, doesn't matter
Why did he do that
She isn't real anymore, she can't
You're okay
Mind is safe
Block her out
Get away
Blood on my hand
Wire in my hand
More blood
Get out
Sick
They have her, they're tackling her, she's screaming
Crazy
Why did he
Insane
STOP
What happened
How could he try to
He didn't ever care
STOP
But the way he used to look at me
STOP
I don't want to hurt anymore, make it
STOP
I closed my eyes against the agony and let the tears run their course. I screamed into the couch and tried to make my mind retreat somewhere else.
But my delusional mind had other ideas, and I found my path of escape blocked by myself.
I tried to move past this strange vision of me, and I felt anger erupt inside of me, and the anger turned into more pain. I felt all the walls of protection I ever created crumble, and I cried out.
"It's okay to cry," the blockade-self said to me, and she seemed sad and resigned.
I looked up, but she was gone. I looked down and saw smoking ruins. Some old rocks smoldered, orange and red embers still engulfing whatever it was.
I looked closer, and recognized the ruins.
My life. Crumbled into this.
The vision shifted and I saw myself standing in the middle of my wrecked life, and I felt a strange sense of hope.
I saw that I was still standing.
My eyes opened, and my sobs slowed, stopped. I felt my body start to relax, and I didn't fight the tears that kept up their race.
"It's okay to cry." My voice was hoarse.
I leaned back against the couch, and marveled at how wet it was from my tears.
I didn't want to move any more. So tired.
I stayed on the couch, exhausted and vulnerable, for several minutes.
The Iron Man theme music started playing from my phone, and I glanced down at the floor by the couch, and saw my brother's picture bouncing on the screen.
I saw his face, and saw how happy he was. His profile picture was of him and his new wife.
I somehow found the strength to move, and I picked up my phone.
"Are you alright?" my brother asked.
He reminded me of his love, and I remembered that I was standing.
I was standing.
No comments:
Post a Comment