The only thing that I see when I look three years back…
Sitting cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom, staring blankly at the wall, I picture my younger self struggling to loosen her hands from the clutches of her memories; which is almost killing her.
I see bruises on her wrists and knees. She must’ve been dragging herself against that rough floor.
I see the walls pleading her to stop hurting herself.
I can’t hear the shrieks but I have an odd sensation in my ears when I try to read her mouth. I can see her pale face, covered with tears and the ashes of her love. I want to look into her eyes, but they are shut tight; making way for more tears.
I say, ‘These will dry out one day.’
She opens her eyes; tired, hopeless, and lifeless, still trying to find the light.
I can feel the heaviness in her chest, like a mass of air or a big chunk of feelings choking her.
I see her body tremble.
Her heart is pounding hard, yet one last time, with all her strength she screams to let everything out.
I can hear that. A loud, painful cry for help.
A drop of tear leaves my eye. My breath is more relaxed now, although I’m cold. I grab my blanket and say to myself;
‘You’ve made it.’
I cover this body of a fighter and exhale the darkness residing within me.
The walls smile back.
