Here it was again that eery feeling. What was it I saw in my sleep - breath in, breath out - slowly - breath in breath out - three times. Why does it always have to be three times, why always repeat oneself?
It should calm me down but it doesn't. I have no intention to dive in but don't want to forget either. I need to remember which film played in my head. Was it horror, drama or action, what was it my brain needed to show?
I know it was just like the morning before and that's why I have to remember. I have to, I don't want to go back down that lane ever.

Was I drowning again or were it her hands did I feel the pressure around my neck? Due to those hands, I still have a hard time swallowing.
Another round: breath in, breath out - it's all about distraction - breath in, breath out - what was shown behind my closed eyes is all I need to know. There's no point in feeling a mill's stone around my neck. I breathe and feel the pain in my stomach or is it that iron grip on my heart that slowly crushes it?

What's the point of dreaming if I can't remember - where are you, I ask the little one hiding, I'll give you a hug, but she keeps silent like she always did. Most likely she's playing hide and seek again while praying no one will find her. -

She's pacing up and down the hallway.
One, two, three, one, two three,
You drive me crazy
One, two, three, one, two three,
Can't you see?
One, two, three, one, two three,
You drive me crazy!

How long will it take her to stop?
One hour? I am lucky, after thirty minutes she gives up and slams me down the stairways.
Hell, here I come. Please, don't be so cruel, let me in. My excuse is better than any's, I don't want to meet up with the 'good people' again.
Off the stairs, I roll like an ugly doll kicked aside by a spoiled child. With a bang my head slams against the bathroom door and my fall comes to an end. My head hurts but not one single bone is broken.

A kick in my stomach, there's that high heel again, she spats on me and leaves saying: If I kill myself it's you to blame! Here we go again.
The front door closes with a loud bang and I hear the car start and drive away.
Let her never come back again, I pray, but I asked the wrong god. This one only feels mercy for her not me, I am not the lost sheep for the Sheppard to be found.
I gather the broken pieces of me and put them in a sack which I carry along on my back. One day I might need these pieces again.

Give me your hand.
The little girl nods and without a word she puts hers in mine, together it is we will walk that 'green mile', together we are untouchable.

What was the message my brain wanted me to show the one I lost from the moment I woke up?
It's nothing, the activist said, just a wake up call to get you out of bed and keep you alert, it's time you start writing. Your choice is ours as well so write @patjewell about the therapist.

Twenty Years

You are the one

who is in complete control. You are the one who will be defeating him.

I always get so mad if my shrink tells me this bullshit. Well, actually it's the fact he isn't paying attention to what I say.
I am one of those 1,800,000 idiots in this world hearing the exact same sentence, the one he recites too in the 25 years he's practising.
It works like this. He asks me a question and as soon as I answer he starts doodling, draws some lines on a piece of paper to get his nerves under control.

It feels as if he thinks I am an idiot. I'm not a toddler that can be fooled by its parents, if showing its sketch - the one they did not even have a look at - lying: Wow that looks great you are very talented!

According to Mr. Therapist, I am in control, complete control and no one else is.

Don't you think it's normal to receive a warranty if you pay for quality stuff like this, I ask?

What do you think?

I already told you my opinion I asked for yours.

Is this something you want to talk about now?

Is it something you avoid to talk about?

Does it bother you if you do not get what you expect?

I like to get what we'd degree on and I pay for, don't you?

What do you think?

I thought you said I am the one who's in control. How about a roleplay? You take my seat and I take yours. That will be fun. You are going to sit there and try and try and try.

This will only be in the way.

I stood up, shoved the small table aside and took his writing pad out of his hands.

Come on Doc if I can do it you can do it too. I have been sitting in this chair for over 20 years and the fact is you did not help me to fight my fears or fight for my rights.

I had a quick look at his notebook... It was a kind of doodle art. Not bad at all, actually was it way better than the therapy he gave. Reluctantly he changed chairs with me.

I noticed you don't feel well, I said. You don't dare to look me in the eyes and do not answer my questions. Your words are meaningless and you do not practice what you preach. I expected more from you after all these years of education.

Twenty years of my life I waisted to hear what even my neighbour's dog can tell me. Twenty years...

Startled he looked at me.

Twenty years of sky-high bills, I continued, what can you say to your defence?

I stood right in front of him and waved with his writing pad in front of his face. I will end this bullshit today. You are an imposter, a big scam.

I pulled his bills out of my pocket tore them into pieces and threw them out of the window. It was there where they were floating on the air currents together with his doodle art. In the end, the guy was right, I did defeat him!

_{Twenty Years is a freewrite from 5 years ago posted for the first time on Steemit. The version above I edited.
This freewrite was the start of 'Tales from the 6th Floor'. By now, 5 years later, the 6th Floor still exists and if you pay attention you can hear the group talk - now and then - with the new therapist.}

Source first freewrite TWENTY YEARS

Pictures: bing.com
Photogrid: Canva
24-2-2024
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