Repressed Memories

4/13/17

**TW: talk of self harm**

OCD/PTSD
•••
And I only fucking dream about you and the reason I can't stand to fall asleep is because I wake up and you're not here.
•••
These fucking memories pop up out of nowhere.
•••
I took three cigarettes out of one pack and added them to another
Wait. I grabbed the wrong one.
Put it back.
Put two more in the other.
Put one back.
•••
It's a trap.
What's a trap?
This.
What?
My head.
It's a cage that I'm trying to break out of.
•••
He's gone. I think I made it up in my head.
•••
10:13 pm

Yesterday, I could only talk when I saw the song was at 1 minute and 14 seconds
I shook
I clawed at my skin
I inspected my fingers
I rubbed my dry, cracked hands until they bled

Fuck. I just want to feel
Something. Anything
•••
10:15 pm
I don't remember who I am
I can't place a name with this face
I don't recognize who I see when I walk past the cars and see my distorted reflection in the tinted windows
How do I find it if I don't even know what I'm looking for?
Who am I?
Hello, my name is Willow Sky Hansen I am 18 years old and I live in Lead, South Dakota. I was born on April 9th, 1999 at 7:28 pm in Rapid City, South Dakota.
All caps, blocky letters, cursive,
I didn't capitalize that,
Where do I go from here?
My handwriting is awful. It's messy.
It resembles my thoughts. Racing.
I can't get them out fast enough.
But I still don't know what to say to you.
•••
10:21 pm

Veins scare me.  Needles scare me. Knives scare me.

But I guess I gave those fears.
I have tattoos all over my body
I still want to slice my wrists open
And I work as a cook

But when I see other people holding a knife casually
Or using it in an unsafe manner
I freak out. I freak the fuck out

Panic spreads through my body.

Don't yell. Please don't raise your voice.
It scares me. I can't do it. I have to
Escape.
I leave. She can deal with it. Whatever happens to that body is fine.
But I need to survive.
It's fight AND flight.
They go hand in hand.
Like body & soul.