With All My Senses

when the dust settles

reconstruction and working through

As time goes on and you are able to be more functional your mind will start to work a bit more 

like it did (...) and yes, the sorrow and sadness will likely still be there. 

But you will be able to  move in the right direction towards the last stage, acceptance.

- on 7 stages of grief, stage 6

All the lights in the building are turned off as I sit at the bottom of the third flight of stairs, just fifteen cold steps from my flat. I sit in the dark and don't even know what time it is, rather oblivious to my surroundings, the memories that I saw in my dreams shaking my already unstable foundation. Why did I see all of that? I mean, I saw Clair's memories before, but they were just glimpses that happened while I was fully awake. These new visions came to me when I was half asleep, drifting into my dreams, tracing, and invading my mind. I had no idea what to think about all of this. With Charlie, I acted cool and composed, or at least that's how I hoped it looked because he kept sending me odd stares whenever my mind would unexpectedly wander off back to the things that I have seen. So perhaps I wasn't actually doing such a good job as I thought. Then again, he always seemed to look at me in a peculiar way.

My eyes close in the dark, fingers massaging strained temples, mind doing overtime. I didn't want to bother him with my heavy thoughts, there were too many of them, and I didn't want to interrupt his positive state. He seemed so happy and relieved that the worst was over for now. And when I managed to control my facial expressions and smile genuinely at him, I couldn't stop my heart slightly jumping as he smiled wide back at me. It was not often that I saw him in such a good mood, more like small moments when everything seemed alright. He sat around with me in the cafeteria sharing his lunch - and then buying a new one just for me, as I seemed to be always hungry these days when my mind wasn't occupied with moans and threats of the ones I could not see, just feel. My head shakes, brain amused with a thought. Hearing voices must have really worked wonders for a girl's appetite, though I suspected it was doing too well, my clothes still more loose than I would have wanted it.

After his shift ended, he walked me off to my flat, ignoring my faint protests, as he probably realized that in truth, I had nothing in mind, actually relieved with the company. Lately, my very low skills at socializing had moved up, and to be honest, sometimes I even enjoyed the presence of other human beings. Sometimes. My smile slowly disappears as I ponder about the things that brought me here, sitting quietly in the dark, lost in fading out dreams.

The unexpected visions. The memories that came to me, making me a silent witness to such intensity of feelings and emotions I was not ready for. Some of them were so tender, that I didn't know what to do with myself, no longer use to such care and softness - I feel my lungs start to move faster as the images start to fill my mind. There was the other side to this as well, it showed memories that cried of such sadness and loneliness that I could not help but relate. And then, there was the last vision. Dirt spread over a wooden box, a silent goodbye to a person that meant the most.

I rub my temples with more force, my whole body shaking and swinging back and forth; something inside me twisting and breaking. I hold in the sob that was surely on its way and clench my fists. My body was tired of all the tears and pain, and this sorrow would not get out tonight.

Mangled thoughts drift until I think of my mother and what my actions did to her; as if she, herself had actually lost a child in a way because of how much I pushed myself away from her, from my family. Though I doubt that my father had felt the same about the situation, maybe he felt relieved that he no longer had to deal with the problem - I inhale deeper. Or maybe there was some sadness, under all of the disappointment that he surely felt towards me. We never got along much, and with each year, our paths grew more apart. Perhaps if I was the son that he always wanted, the one my mother had lost before me.