But it's Just the Price I Pay

There are somethings I realize I am not completely over. There are somethings that no matter how long it has been are still with me. I put them so far in the back of my mind that when they come up it's like a wave of nausea all over again. Maybe I am particularly bad at getting over things... But it is a strange to think that it doesn't bother me the way most people would think.

When I am in a happy, normal state of mind I can talk about these issues with ease. I can fully discuss them. It seems like a different part of my life. I don't get upset by admitting they happened, or telling people. I get upset when someone does something that causes a whole wave of nostalgia that makes me feel like there are bugs crawling in my skin. Like the world is crushing me. I am not sure where these feelings are coming from.

Recently my dreams have been troubled with this past events. I wake up every morning that strange feeling all over again. I am not sure what is wrong with me. Nothing has happened, nothing even remotely to remind me of these events. But recently I have been haunted by them. I wake up and spend a few minutes trying to make the nausea go back down. It is not a pleasant way to wake up...

I am not sure what to do.

The second of July

I wake up, the same as I do every morning and look vaugely out the window at the clear blue sky watching the scattered clouds glide lazily by. It is already ten , and my limbs don't seem to have good motivation to begin movement. I lay in a twisted sea of blankets as the haziness of a scattered sleep seems to slowly drain out of my frozen muscles. I find it strange the pattern of my thoughts in the morning. The dream like wonder has not yet drifted away from my mind, and my thoughts seem less burdened by worry and fear. I see quiet clearly everything that had been shrowded in fear before.

I think that my mind is clear.

As I wake this morning there is not a worry on my mind and I listen to the soft pulse of my heart in my head. It reminds me of the heart of someone I hold dear- and how everytime I put my head to his chest the loud thumping echos through my head, as my far weaker heart does now. My hearts beat is not so profound. I wonder why that is as my memory echos back through my head, mixing with a soft beat. But it doesn't concern me much. I am far too content for a troubled thought; it is what happens when you are curled in a polar fleece sheet.

But I still wonder why his heart beats so loudly. I know I always comment how I can hear his heart, and he laughs. I wonder why my heart beats so softly. It seems so frail in comparason, it's soft beat steady and unchanging. I wonder if it is because I am female. Or if it is the fact my heart has stopped before. I am not sure, either way the sound continues to echo softly.

The house comes alive around me. I hear my brother's morning cartoon on the televison, and my parents seem to be eating breakfast. I am in no hurry to move though, I am aware they have not made any for me, and I am not a breakfast person. There is nothing to do today so even as the rest of the world begins I have no motivation to move. The house will go on it's own way, and I predict I will be sitting at home. So there is no hurry. My languid pace suits me this time.

I close my eyes and enjoy the peace. I know my mind will turn on soon and then the days hectic thoughts will begin. Morning is a time for me- a time for peace. It is the second of July. It has been one month and a year since someone wonderful came into my life. And for some reason that brings a smile to my face. And at that moment I know everything will be alright