Somewhere

January 19, 2018
By Charlie000 BRONZE, Smithtown, New York
Charlie000 BRONZE, Smithtown, New York
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I look back at that memory and stop. I wonder for a split second if it actually happened. How was I there? How was that me? Why did I do that? And then my head spins and suddenly I'm in a war between my head and my body. Fighting over if I'm here or not.

 

My body sits in this old chair feeling the silky material on my skin. Yet my head insists I'm somewhere else. I pinch the skin on my forearm and wince in pain. How can I feel pain yet not feel physically here. Here in this world. Because my body feels like it’s in water. And my head is sinking under. Floating away out to the openness of the sea. Feeling the calmness of the ocean wash over my arms. The sky so blue above me and the darkness below. No, it's all darkness. I can't see. It's the same darkness every time. It's always here inside me. Why can't I see. I zoom out and suddenly I see that picture on an old tv. Like the one in my great grandmas house. I see myself on screen then see my reflection. Where am I? My head darts for answers but I can't seem to find any. Who am I? Am I the girl I stare at in the reflection of the tv?  After all I do not know that estranged face. Her eyes glazed over and tissues cover the floor. Where is she? She looks like she's been crying. Who is she? Her wrists are stained with the sunset and her hair like the sun.


I saw life in the reflection of a tv. Her tears. Her smiles. Her laughter. She lived yet she never felt so dead. I saw her love behind closed doors. I heard cry and hurt behind those as well.  She loved and loved and loved yet he didn't love back. He desired but it was different. She had friends, but they left her for some reason or another. It wasn't quite obvious why. She cried and cried and cried. And she stopped. She thought about her life and stopped. She wondered when, where, and she wrote. And she stopped. She got ready and she stopped. Everything stopped. And suddenly I was in my old chair. With the old silk material. With my head somewhere else.


The author's comments:

I go through feelings of not being here. Its hard to describe buit this is myh firdt time trying to. I have moments in which i believe life isnt real or moments where I dont feel like my body is mine. 


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