SeekingAfrica
Diamond Member
I can't do this again... I can't.... how... what did we do with flashbacks before?
I don't know how...
One minute I'm fine and the next I'm crying on the floor in my cold entryway and all I can feel is blazing heat on my skin.
All I can feel is me being 6, details of the stupid apartment, flashes of the color of the walls in different rooms, the chair I used to get up to look in the mirror because it was high. The cold concrete black and white tile of the balcony, cool in any heat. The smooth surface of the balcony side wall when I was hiding sitting on it and wondering if I'd really care if I fell. Flashes of climbing trees, listening to friends complain, but thinking I'm the worst.
Brief moments of being here and then hearing the voice. Get off the floor dumb child. Get up. I can't breathe from crying, I can't remember what is now. I keep getting these flashes. The market in the morning when the heat is tolerable. The feeling of the sun burning my skin. The sounds of train in the night. Curned toast, translated french stories for children that I haven't seen in years. My favorites were always those. Where the main heroine gets lost in some world. That one, where she went for a walk and got kidnapped by dwarfs but they took care of her in their kingdom, until she was grown enough to choose if to leave. They had saved her.
The taste of cold coke or sprite in blazing heat. Hiding in the shadow side of buildings because you're save from the heat, running, climbing, making as much trouble as I can because then it all made sense but I can't get up. I can't move. The flashes keep going and now I'm hiding in bed. Every taste. Pictures, candleholders, that one broken taped up window that never got fixed, the tree that broke in half during a storm and nobody cared to cut it down, the peeling paint of benches and gazibos, when even the air smells of heat to the point where you can't breathe but you're used to the feeling.
Get up. I drag myself. Under the covers. where it's dark and quiet and safe. I can't, I can't, I forgot how to stop this, the more I'm there the more I remember. Colors, sensations. Can't remember how being in that body felt like but I remember sensations on my skin, my hair, my nails when I scratch would just because. I don't feel here. Nothing, I did nothing, nothing happened and somehow I can't stop, why???? I was done with this and now it was like a bright blindng explosion and I need to hide....
I don't know how...
One minute I'm fine and the next I'm crying on the floor in my cold entryway and all I can feel is blazing heat on my skin.
All I can feel is me being 6, details of the stupid apartment, flashes of the color of the walls in different rooms, the chair I used to get up to look in the mirror because it was high. The cold concrete black and white tile of the balcony, cool in any heat. The smooth surface of the balcony side wall when I was hiding sitting on it and wondering if I'd really care if I fell. Flashes of climbing trees, listening to friends complain, but thinking I'm the worst.
Brief moments of being here and then hearing the voice. Get off the floor dumb child. Get up. I can't breathe from crying, I can't remember what is now. I keep getting these flashes. The market in the morning when the heat is tolerable. The feeling of the sun burning my skin. The sounds of train in the night. Curned toast, translated french stories for children that I haven't seen in years. My favorites were always those. Where the main heroine gets lost in some world. That one, where she went for a walk and got kidnapped by dwarfs but they took care of her in their kingdom, until she was grown enough to choose if to leave. They had saved her.
The taste of cold coke or sprite in blazing heat. Hiding in the shadow side of buildings because you're save from the heat, running, climbing, making as much trouble as I can because then it all made sense but I can't get up. I can't move. The flashes keep going and now I'm hiding in bed. Every taste. Pictures, candleholders, that one broken taped up window that never got fixed, the tree that broke in half during a storm and nobody cared to cut it down, the peeling paint of benches and gazibos, when even the air smells of heat to the point where you can't breathe but you're used to the feeling.
Get up. I drag myself. Under the covers. where it's dark and quiet and safe. I can't, I can't, I forgot how to stop this, the more I'm there the more I remember. Colors, sensations. Can't remember how being in that body felt like but I remember sensations on my skin, my hair, my nails when I scratch would just because. I don't feel here. Nothing, I did nothing, nothing happened and somehow I can't stop, why???? I was done with this and now it was like a bright blindng explosion and I need to hide....
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