2/17/17 “1:14 am”
I never knew how hard it could be to write one of my blogs. I thought I came to peace with “Waiting For Me”. I was beginning the dream before I realized I was digging too deep. I became scared again. I triggered myself. I couldn’t get myself to continue to the part where the fear really began. I can see it and think nothing of it, but portraying the fear and putting together the scene makes it all seem so real again.
And set aside from that, my dreams are usually vivid and surreal. They’ve become reality. Which makes it even worst. I had to hold back the tears.
As again, I try to attempt to finish the post. I have to. I had to bring it into the light, which I refused to do, but I can’t go back to that dark space anymore.
The fear has vanished. But the thought of going back to finish the piece is unsettling. Still, thinking about it is fine, thinking about writing every detail still scares me. Maybe not tonight, maybe tomorrow, or the next day…
2/19 – 10:16 pm
The night before, it struck me again. The exhaustion and panic attacks. It was as if someone was with me in my room. Again, it was my mere imagination and fear through pure exhaustion. As I begin to conquer my fear I come to realize that, hey, maybe I should write this piece in a different room.
2/23 – 10:15 am
I was able to read and re-read “Waiting For Me”. I think I’ve come to piece with this one. Taking it as a lesson, memory, or even a beautiful scar – if that should be a thing.