i know i was there. i just can't...remember it. i mean. i think? i was there, right? there's proof i was.
...was that me? did i become someone else? who was i, in that year from hell?
i know one thing for sure, i wasn't what they kept saying i was.
there are people who believe what they said, i know that now...putting painful pieces of this jigsaw together...gilded with razorwire. digging into my fingertips like shards of glass. drop them again, let them fall. walk away. don't pick them up.
i would fool myself into thinking maybe i mattered, maybe the wounds and scars i carried would be seen. but the opposite happened, and besides, i wonder...i wonder, why should i expect anyone else to be able to see my wounds if i keep pretending so desperately that they're not there?
i was eviscerated wholly. i was eaten from the inside and a zombie ant laid its eggs in my forebrain. my smile became frozen with fear&pain while a hand held the back of my head and rubbed my face in my own fear like vomit.
howling storm gale laced with fractures. radioactive little hellcat, hissing and spitting. it's a möbius band.
maybe the only thing to do is to just hush, become silence, swallow words&thoughts&'bad' feelings like almond candies. i know there's so much damage done, and i've had no chance to heal from it. i don't think i ever will; it's not willpower, it's emotional and psychological logistics. maybe that'll just erode the foundations of the whole structure of 'myself' until it falls down, but what can i do to stop it?
if the castle falls, then you build a new castle.