What it feels like

It’s never ever feeling safe. It’s never taking a full breath of air in your lungs. It’s the feeling of walking barefoot over glass, except the feeling is all over your body every time you leave your house.
It’s being afraid to close your eyes. The vulnerability you feel during the split second of blindness as you sneeze is terrifying.
It’s knowing in your bones that other human beings have the power to destroy you. That you can be victimized, no matter how hard you fight or cry or yell. That even someone you trust as a friend or as family can turn on you faster than a wolf when hunger hits.
It’s knowing in your bones that other human beings have the power to destroy you. That you can be victimized, no matter how hard you fight or cry or yell. That even someone you trust as a friend or as family can turn on you faster than a wolf when hunger hits.
It’s being told that not everyone wants to hurt you, but you can’t stay grounded long enough to truly get to know anyone. It’s spending most of your time alone because you are terrified of other human beings, sometimes even your friends. You tell yourself it’s better that way, but loneliness still ravages you when you least expect it.
STUCK. Stuck in the moment of horror, unable to move past it. The feeling is very much like being trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up.It is as close to death as you can possibly imagine; you actually believe you’re not going to make it. It’s like something bigger than the universe stole your identity and soul and your left as a shell, stuck on repeat that beats you down further.
Horror.
You feel like you were born a target and that’s all you’ll ever be. Danger is all you know, it’s everywhere.
It feels like prison.
It feels like Hell.
There is a delicate porcelain figure. It is not the beautiful kind you see on a shelf, it is ugly beyond description. The slightest wind will knock it over and break it forever. So it is locked inside a great double-walled brick box. It must never see or be seen. It therefor will not experience pain of any kind. Nor will it, however, experience anything. Not love, affection, the wind in her hair, nothing. To protect this creature is the one and only goal.In spite of being protected from breakage, it is, in fact, already destroyed. And dead.
Dean Hunt
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s