[COMPLETED]
♦️ A story about love, born from revenge ♦️
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She, as a free spirit had an immense passion for life, and due to her desire to live it as wholly as possible, she needed as much freedom as she...
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There were days my head just couldn't work. I tried so hard to focus and it was like trying to run through boiling water, barefoot. My brain fogged up and thoughts went nowhere at all.
Sometimes I thought it natured anesthesia, anything to numb the pain, to wipe out the trauma I had. Then there were the times of clarity, sudden moments when I could see every detail and feel every feeling. The trigger could be something like music, a turn of phrase, a smell, anything that reminded me of my childhood. Anything that reminded me of him.
I used to hope it was a process to wipe out the bad memories, to stop me reliving them to well meaning askers. Now I know it was not so simple. It provided some protection, but the price was the flashbacks and the times of confusion. The stronger the blocks became the more intense the flashbacks were - as if the neurones were fighting for their lives, anything not to wither away.
Yet, as my mother once said: "We will get through this and we will be all right." And so that kept me living, breathing.
I walked, each day another step onward, always hoping to arrive in that future, where I'd be all right, at peace. However, I couldn't stop the craving for revenge.
"What are you thinking about?" I recognized the voice of my psychiatrist.
She wanted to offer me drugs I could feel it, slip me some risperidone or ativan at the least but I've been off that poison for months now and living a normal life.... Well, as normal as it could get in my situation.
Now I realized I've been thinking too long, it was a dead giveaway for having internal dialogues. If I were on her ward, those pajamas would be staying on. But I wasn't planning on doing that and I was not stupid enough to get committed, not again at least...
"Perhaps you should tell me about those nightmares you're having? What are they about?"
Now my back was up. I know she was a psychiatrist but I could see her pulling the professional side of her out of the closet. She's got to know me since the accident happened years ago, but I insisted she'd put her 'stethoscope' behavior away or I wouldn't come to sessions, since I wasn't really fond of doctors. She was not getting her way today.
