So, for my English GCSE we had to look at some poems, and one was called Case History: Alison (Head Injury). I had to write in character as her, and this was the outcome. You can find the poem here http://gcseenglishteacher.com/2015/01/13/case-history-alison-head-injury-analysis/
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It was cold. February. She wore a coat of black velvet to keep the chill from sinking into her bones and making her body feel as frozen as her mind. The velvet was soft. I remember. I have felt it now. It felt as though the soft curves of her body had been made into cloth just to protect her further.
It matched the atmosphere. Dark with the spirit of a dead man and enveloped with glances of soft sympathy cast towards the girl who cried alone in her velvet coat.
Some say it was warm and soft with a hint of perfection, but over all it was bleak and outdated. The coat. The day.
It's in tatters now. But it still matched the atmosphere. A hopeless black that refuses to fade and the soft glances of sympathy are still directed towards me. The woman who cries because she cannot remember, cannot feel the pain of the girl in the velvet coat.
I cannot remember what it was like to feel the loneliness she must have felt. I can't pretend i can fathom the embarrassment she must've felt when she broke down because she blocked out the whole world, minus that one grave in front of her.
I no longer know what it was like to hear that one last song he loved as i left the church, nor do i know what it was like to have to force a smile for my guests at the wake.
I wish i did.
There'll never be a day where i do not yearn for all the emotions days like that day gave me.
I may have stories but they hide things, they don't remember things.
They won't tell me about she heard the bare branches of the trees rattling against each other in the wind; or how the air must've smelt of the wet earth surrounding her.
Did she taste the salt of her tears?
How did the grave stone feel when she first touched it?
These are the things i cry over. I do not cry because he was a 'wonderful man' or because he was 'taken too soon'. I cry because no one can tell me what it was like when my heart broke a little more. No one can tell me how the jacket felt when she first placed it on her skin.
And most of all, no one can tell me how i felt.
This is why i am crying.
