On the Inside

‘Old pain doesn't completely die. Time may soothe it, stoke over it until it looks like it has healed, but it never dies properly. It stays with you, it lives in the cracks of your soul, waiting for the moments when you feel true pain.’

Dorothy Koomson.

Triggered. Heavy thinking, overthinking… I’m fine, no one is coming… Heart racing, feeling trapped inside, someone is coming, seeing my whole past in the blink of an eye: petrified, feeling dark inside as if no one is there, never was, never will.

Isolated. Shaking, screaming, drowning… Deeper, deeper and deeper, now lost in my own mind and past, praying for survival from the past, my past. The shadows, voices. I’m back there. That gloomy place grabbing me from the tree tops touching me. Deeper.

Suddenly it stops. Silence and I’m back. The same classroom, words projecting becoming massive as if I'm in a cartoon. Same dull grey tables, just staring back at me making me feel small inside, but somehow feeling as if I have no control over my senses. I see now in front of me a total blur; questioning myself: am I dreaming? Am I lost in my own mind and thoughts or lost in space, drifting into darkness with the stars and planets?

Realising that I’m not in my safe place, knowing I need to leave this classroom and fight my mind to tell myself I’m safe, no one is coming, nothing is happening again, no more of her, no more shouting, no longer feeling lost. I’m fine. I’m not broken. Is he coming? He will not harm me again and she will not trouble my future longer. Triggered. Sympathy, that’s all I show her because she’s not to blame, she’s just addicted like coffee but addicted to something so bitter. Why? Why like something so life taking then reflect that onto your one and only, to satisfy yourself?

Satisfaction. What is the meaning of satisfaction because somehow I always got used for it but never received it myself? Screaming and running, I needed her but she couldn’t save me. Do you know the feeling of running and not knowing what’s next? What if it could be death? That little six year old girl was scared, do you feel her pain, do you feel her sorrow? So, as for me, that same six-year-old but now sitting in this chair as a fourteen-year-old, still not feeling at peace, not feeling safe just because of the people who are surrounding me and tipping my cup over, making me feel the same shame and pain once again. Triggered.

Tears, I’m too strong to cry but sometimes it takes a lot for one person to get the courage to let that pain go. Now looking straight at my teacher to be excused so I can leave, looking at my reflection, tears forming in my eyes. However I’m not crying but ready to let go.