"It will be as if I never existed."
what makes it so easy for you to be walking by?
And what did I do that you can't seem to want me?
Why do we lie here and whisper goodbyes?
Where can I go that your pictures won't haunt me?
What makes it so easy for you to be walking by?
ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.
"Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does.
Even for me."
"The thick haze that blurred my days now was sometimes confusing. I was surprised when I found myself in my room, not clearly remembering the drive home from school or even opening the front door. But that didn't matter. Losing track of time was the most I asked from life."
"I was not allowed to think of [them]. That was something I tried to be very strict about. Of course I slipped; I was only human. But I was getting better, and so the pain was something I could avoid for days at a time now. The trade-off was the never-ending numbness. Between pain and nothing, I'd chosen nothing."
"I waited for the numbness to return, or the pain. Because the pain must be coming. I'd broken my personal rules. Instead of shying away from the memories, 'd walked forward and greeted them... That was going to cost me, I was sure of it. Especially if I couldn't reclaim the haze to protect myself. I felt too alert, and that frightened me."
"I lay in my bed a few minutes later, resigned as the pain finally made it's appearance.
It's a crippling thing, this sensation that a huge hole had been punched through my chest, excising my most vital organs and leaving ragged, unhealed gashes around the edges that continued to throb and bleed despite the passage of time. Rationally I knew my lungs must still be intact, yet I gasped for air and my head spun like my efforts yielded me nothing. My heart must have been beating, too, but I couldn't hear the sound of my pulse in my ears; my hands felt blue with cold. I curled inward, hugging my ribs to hold myself together. I scrambled for my numbness, my denial, but it evaded me."
"I always had nightmares now, every night. Not nightmares really, not in the plural, because it was always the same nightmare. You'd think I'd get bored after so many months, grow immune to it. But the dream never failed to horrify me, and only ended when I woke myself with screaming."
"I wasn't sure, when I woke in the dark, if I'd just begun crying, or if my tears had run while I slept and simply continued now. I stared at my dark ceiling. I could feel that it was the middle of the night--I was still half asleep, maybe more than half. I closed my eyes wearily and prayed for a dreamless sleep."
"I woke screaming at the top of my lungs....This wasn't my usual screaming. I buried my head in my pillow and tried to muffle the hysterics that my screams were building into. I pressed the cotton tight against my face."
"It will be as if I never existed. The words ran through my head, lacking the perfect clarity of my hallucination last night. They were just words, soundless, like print on a page. Just words, but they ripped the hole wide open... I curled over, pressing my face against the steering wheel and tried to breathe without lungs.
I wondered how long this could last. Maybe someday, years from now--if the pain would just decrease to the point where I could bear it--I would be able to look back... But what if this hole never got any better? If the raw edges never healed? If the damage was permanent and irreversible?
I held myself tightly together."
And what did I do that you can't seem to want me?
Why do we lie here and whisper goodbyes?
Where can I go that your pictures won't haunt me?
What makes it so easy for you to be walking by?
ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.
"Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does.
Even for me."
"The thick haze that blurred my days now was sometimes confusing. I was surprised when I found myself in my room, not clearly remembering the drive home from school or even opening the front door. But that didn't matter. Losing track of time was the most I asked from life."
"I was not allowed to think of [them]. That was something I tried to be very strict about. Of course I slipped; I was only human. But I was getting better, and so the pain was something I could avoid for days at a time now. The trade-off was the never-ending numbness. Between pain and nothing, I'd chosen nothing."
"I waited for the numbness to return, or the pain. Because the pain must be coming. I'd broken my personal rules. Instead of shying away from the memories, 'd walked forward and greeted them... That was going to cost me, I was sure of it. Especially if I couldn't reclaim the haze to protect myself. I felt too alert, and that frightened me."
"I lay in my bed a few minutes later, resigned as the pain finally made it's appearance.
It's a crippling thing, this sensation that a huge hole had been punched through my chest, excising my most vital organs and leaving ragged, unhealed gashes around the edges that continued to throb and bleed despite the passage of time. Rationally I knew my lungs must still be intact, yet I gasped for air and my head spun like my efforts yielded me nothing. My heart must have been beating, too, but I couldn't hear the sound of my pulse in my ears; my hands felt blue with cold. I curled inward, hugging my ribs to hold myself together. I scrambled for my numbness, my denial, but it evaded me."
"I always had nightmares now, every night. Not nightmares really, not in the plural, because it was always the same nightmare. You'd think I'd get bored after so many months, grow immune to it. But the dream never failed to horrify me, and only ended when I woke myself with screaming."
"I wasn't sure, when I woke in the dark, if I'd just begun crying, or if my tears had run while I slept and simply continued now. I stared at my dark ceiling. I could feel that it was the middle of the night--I was still half asleep, maybe more than half. I closed my eyes wearily and prayed for a dreamless sleep."
"I woke screaming at the top of my lungs....This wasn't my usual screaming. I buried my head in my pillow and tried to muffle the hysterics that my screams were building into. I pressed the cotton tight against my face."
"It will be as if I never existed. The words ran through my head, lacking the perfect clarity of my hallucination last night. They were just words, soundless, like print on a page. Just words, but they ripped the hole wide open... I curled over, pressing my face against the steering wheel and tried to breathe without lungs.
I wondered how long this could last. Maybe someday, years from now--if the pain would just decrease to the point where I could bear it--I would be able to look back... But what if this hole never got any better? If the raw edges never healed? If the damage was permanent and irreversible?
I held myself tightly together."