I want to be brave, I know I do but I still feel like the girl hiding under the bed peering outside. I'm still that girl. And the fear has grown into its own entity. Gruesome and alive, as powerful as the real me, but I can live with it now. In any case I cannot find it anymore perhaps the fear and me have become the same being at last.
The nightmares are getting worse and I often wake up with tears spluttered on my face, half dried like the dreams of yesterday. I never want to remember what I'd seen and even they are not the same anymore. No point telling anyone, better to open a drawer and stock everything away. Even pain is useful my mother always says. Pain tells you where the problem is. For medical doctors anyway.
I've been learning a lot from someone new. I remember the things he says and I use them. At the moment I suppose; to shut everything and everyone out till I can feel nothing anymore. Numbness is best because I'm tired. Because everything is gone, perhaps the sickness should have taken the last shreds too, because I want to not be me anymore. 'Me' as a concept doesn't work.
I find if I pursue the most self destructive path I could wash myself of everything I had been. But if I was so easy to destroy I couldn't have survived all those other things. Things which were supposed to kill me. So often I wish they had.
I had left my book and my dreams but I see they are finding themselves back to me somehow. There is only so far you can run from what you are and it's time to stop running.