I think it is good to have that moment
The moment you look back and feel deep melancholy
You see what is lost and mistakes made
But you see it with satisfaction, heartache, but satisfaction
Because now you know
Now you know that’s what had to happen for you to be where you are and love who you love and miss who you miss
I think it is good to have that moment
The room is filled with darkness and I can feel nothing accept the aching in my chest. It restricts each breath with anxiety creeping through my veins. Then there is light and I see someone; a man. We’re in a wood house. Wind sweeps through the cracks of the wood with a whisper. I hear a baby crying. The man, I know him. I trust him. He does not speak a word, but tells me to follow him. The light shifts and we are elsewhere. The baby crying is louder now. I try to ask where the baby is, but no words form. A girl twirls, her hair flying around. Her giggles echo with the sounds of the crying baby. I almost smile at her joy, but she stops. She looks at me, or faces towards me. Her face does not exist. It’s a blur of non existence, yet I know she is laughing and crying. Facing her pain with hysteria. My stomach cringes and the man grabs my wrist. We go up a wooden ladder. I hear the screams of the baby. Once we are in the room, like a loft, the man dissappears. There is something on the floor, screaming. I tremble. I fear what has happened to the baby. As i step forward to glance at the baby, the man reappears. He thrusts me forward.im standing over the baby. But it doesn’t look like a baby. It has some light brown fur. It’s body looks mangled and twisted. But it has the face of a baby. A scrambled and frightening face, but the face of a baby nonetheless. I attempt to scream, but all goes silent. All goes dark. I open my eyes.
I am part of one the one percent of the general population that has chronic nightmares, multiple nightmares every night. When ever I have the time, I will be blogging any nightmares I remember. Join me for the terror.
Freestyle with my ukulele. A story of child abuse.
He says he can be my sunshine
but what if he can only be my night time
It is a terrible obsession
But maybe, hopefully, I won’t mind
to be the center of his shrine
Not to face the repercussion
Tries to keep me his, confined
insanity loosely defined
Giving the unintended concussion
Trying, but can’t leave him behind
With his words, actions so unkind
To face him is to face destruction
the happiness naturally declined
when hope is left behind
She leaned forward on the edge of her seat. She felt the sweat drip down the back of her legs. She was nervous the seat would be wet when she stood. Then everyone would be able to see how the heat and hidden nerves were affecting her. Pretty, skinny girls aren’t suppose to sweat, at least that’s what society had told her. She tore her skin from the leather bench in the waiting room. She regretted wearing the shorts that had exposed the skin that stuck to the seat. Every moment only intensified the nerves and fear. The doctor stared at her with a disapproving smile as she slowly inched towards him. She knew the way the world looked at a girl who should look innocent, but covered it up with piercings, tattoos, and revealing clothes. The skin exposed that she’s supposed to be ashamed of. The doctor greeted her with a “this shouldn’t take long.” She hadn’t even considered it taking long. She didn’t know how long it took to see if you had an STD or as they say it, an unplanned pregnancy. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her. Or.. What wasn’t wrong with her. She felt sick. All the time. Ever since he had touched her. Maybe it was all in her mind or maybe his “love” had infected her. The doctor lead her to an entirely white room or supposed-to-be white room. He quickly told her, “the nurse will be with you in a moment, get undressed.” She found herself shaking after hearing his words. Why is getting undressed so scary? She hardly had any clothes on anyways, but it frightened her. She felt exposed and vulnerable. She didn’t feel like her body was her own, but rather an object awaiting manipulation and examination. The nurse yanked the door open, making her jump. “I’m going to take some blood,” she said blandly.
Interested? I’ll add more to the story every couple of days!(:
thinkwithdepth 