20/09/2019

20/09/2019

And it is like if some person places its hands around my neck and it would never let it go.

It feels like if someone gave me a punch on the stomach with the only purpose of sending me far away. Far away.

And it is like if those memories became alive and would push me under. Under. Underground.

My breath gets heavier. It blocks my mouth my hands my legs.

And I am up there, surrounded by a bubble. It is lifting me me up, raising me away. I do not know where, I do not have control of it.

Voices in my head say I am about to die. They say that all I have been trying to build so far is about to end. However, they also tell me that it is worth it, because those thoughts will always follow me everywhere. But I am not ready to die but I am ready to die but I am not ready to die but I am ready to die but maybe I am not.

The voices echo in my head saying that the sensation of heaviness on my stomach will never end. Voices tell that the sound of that voice screaming my name will never get out of my mind.

And I see the image of this man's hands hitting hard on this woman's body, who I know very well. And I am aware that it will always be printed in me. As well as the regret of myself staying in bed while my mother was screaming for help. The regret that is now translated in anxiety. Anxiety that keeps me company everyday.

And I am up there, surrounded by a bubble. But I am still alive. And anxiety is the only company I am comfortable with.