- Post starter
- #145
KwanYingirl
Diamond Member
When I woke up at 3am as usual, I decided to get up and drive to LL Bean to return a coat. I bought it online, and it was so itchy, I knew it had to go back. Shipping wiuld be expensive, but driving to Freeport is easy except it’s Christmas time and the place is a mob scene. Not only that but the clothing offgasses formaldehyde and it makes me sick. So 3am, they’re open 24 hours a day. I figured I’d have the place to myself. In and out quick. And I was the only one there. It was very strange to be there all alone. Of course, I panicked when I realized how f*cking vulnerable these employees are to a criminal. The place was a ghost town. Returned the coat and went home and back to bed. I was back home by 5:30. Who were the people on the highway and where were they headed? So even insomnia has a silver lining.
My wound is not healing. I guess if anyone reads this they’ll understand how frantic I’ve been thinking about that guys bacteria and sweat and laundry soap residue attacking my body. All my adult life I’ve worked in medicine. I have been peed on, puked on, much bled on, sputum wads flying towards me. It comes with the job. It’s normal. Fill out an incident report in case you come down with hepC or hiv. This was different. My infection control failed. And the guy is so difficult to work on. He can’t stand any pain at all. I want to tell him to butch up, women put up with much worse, so just stop being a prima donna.
I’m just about ready to quit working and go into a trauma center to really be in a safe place. Of course, it wouldn’t really be safe because of the chemicals and the toxic detergent everything is eased in. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t be safe at all damn it.
I’m hopelessly stuck with this particular memory that belongs to a little girl. She’s not me. She is not a part of me. She is knocking at my soul. Let me out, hold me, comfort me, love me. Make sense of this. I just slice these parts off me as if carving a turkey. Then I put someone else’s skin on me. The good student, the gifted musician, the hardest worker. Even during the two years I did so much Crystal meth and LSD, I only weighed 80 pounds. No one noticed me dying right there in front of them. It was a game I played with my parents. Look at what I can get away with. Bring home good grades and they leave you alone. Just disappear. Hey, it worked better than cutting, the High was so intense I couldn’t live without it. And then it was time to go to college and get the hell out of that house, and just like that, I put drugs down and picked up alcohol. That love affair lasted and intensified after I got strangled, then I ran away to aeurope to get over that and ended up being drugged and kidnapped. That was it. If I had to live a life that is so beaten down, then I don’t want to remember it. Hell this is a bad time of year for me. I don’t stop remembering.
Listen to the wind, it talks.
Listen to the silence, it speaks.
Listen to your heart, it knows.
My wound is not healing. I guess if anyone reads this they’ll understand how frantic I’ve been thinking about that guys bacteria and sweat and laundry soap residue attacking my body. All my adult life I’ve worked in medicine. I have been peed on, puked on, much bled on, sputum wads flying towards me. It comes with the job. It’s normal. Fill out an incident report in case you come down with hepC or hiv. This was different. My infection control failed. And the guy is so difficult to work on. He can’t stand any pain at all. I want to tell him to butch up, women put up with much worse, so just stop being a prima donna.
I’m just about ready to quit working and go into a trauma center to really be in a safe place. Of course, it wouldn’t really be safe because of the chemicals and the toxic detergent everything is eased in. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t be safe at all damn it.
I’m hopelessly stuck with this particular memory that belongs to a little girl. She’s not me. She is not a part of me. She is knocking at my soul. Let me out, hold me, comfort me, love me. Make sense of this. I just slice these parts off me as if carving a turkey. Then I put someone else’s skin on me. The good student, the gifted musician, the hardest worker. Even during the two years I did so much Crystal meth and LSD, I only weighed 80 pounds. No one noticed me dying right there in front of them. It was a game I played with my parents. Look at what I can get away with. Bring home good grades and they leave you alone. Just disappear. Hey, it worked better than cutting, the High was so intense I couldn’t live without it. And then it was time to go to college and get the hell out of that house, and just like that, I put drugs down and picked up alcohol. That love affair lasted and intensified after I got strangled, then I ran away to aeurope to get over that and ended up being drugged and kidnapped. That was it. If I had to live a life that is so beaten down, then I don’t want to remember it. Hell this is a bad time of year for me. I don’t stop remembering.
Listen to the wind, it talks.
Listen to the silence, it speaks.
Listen to your heart, it knows.