It's always predictable when I get woken up by the sound of my phone ringing, tearing me away from whatever magical place my mind had put me in for the night. Most times I feel angry for being taken and put back into reality but there are some nights when I need saving. There are some nights where my dreams feel out of my control. There are nights like last night. I dreamt about being raped... Again and again and again and again to the point where I couldn't feel anything anymore and I thought that I was dead when I heard the phone ringing and it was over.
And then there was the night before when I was dreaming about my brother. I hate him. (For your own information, I don't use that word lightly. Ever.) My family was plaguing what could have been a wonderful dream. I remember everything looking better than it really does but then he showed up. At one point I walked up to him and screamed at him, telling him that I hated him, and slapping him over and over across the face. He smiled at me and I grabbed him with both hands around his neck and squeezed. I strangled my brother, crying the entire time, and he just kept looking up at me smiling.
In my dream I let him. I had no will to fight. I didn't care. I felt dead already and I just let it happen. I'm not usually the victim in my dreams and if I am I can usually turn things around in the end. It's been so long since...
I cut myself every time I shave my legs. Well, 9 times out of 10 anyway. When I hung up the phone I lay in bed feeling dead and numb and started to cry. I got up and felt like a zombie taking a shower. I wanted to cut myself. I wanted to see the blood and feel the pain and know that I really was alive inside and that my heart was beating and that I could really feel things but I didn't. I didn't want to do it on purpose. I'm not that kind of freak. I wanted it to just happen, like it almost always does but I've never been lucky. So I sat there minutes later, watching the water go down the drain, hugging my knees and counting my scars.
I still feel like a zombie. I still feel like I want to be reminded of what pain feels like, just to remind myself.
And then there was the night before when I was dreaming about my brother. I hate him. (For your own information, I don't use that word lightly. Ever.) My family was plaguing what could have been a wonderful dream. I remember everything looking better than it really does but then he showed up. At one point I walked up to him and screamed at him, telling him that I hated him, and slapping him over and over across the face. He smiled at me and I grabbed him with both hands around his neck and squeezed. I strangled my brother, crying the entire time, and he just kept looking up at me smiling.
In my dream I let him. I had no will to fight. I didn't care. I felt dead already and I just let it happen. I'm not usually the victim in my dreams and if I am I can usually turn things around in the end. It's been so long since...
I cut myself every time I shave my legs. Well, 9 times out of 10 anyway. When I hung up the phone I lay in bed feeling dead and numb and started to cry. I got up and felt like a zombie taking a shower. I wanted to cut myself. I wanted to see the blood and feel the pain and know that I really was alive inside and that my heart was beating and that I could really feel things but I didn't. I didn't want to do it on purpose. I'm not that kind of freak. I wanted it to just happen, like it almost always does but I've never been lucky. So I sat there minutes later, watching the water go down the drain, hugging my knees and counting my scars.
I still feel like a zombie. I still feel like I want to be reminded of what pain feels like, just to remind myself.
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