I woke up and tried my best from stopping myself from screaming, but then I realised that the room had been silent for hours, "Just another bad one" I told myself, getting used to the perpetual nightmares and never ending short sleeps. My days had been suffering because of my nights, and I'd been spending less and less time with friends and family because I was too tierd to raise myself from bed.
It had been weeks since the... since the... it had been weeks since it had happened, prehaps even a month, I didn't care much for time anymore, it doesn't hold any significant sway over me, this room I'm in seems to exclude me from all the trivial things that we've made and forced ourselves to do over the years. I could almost look down on the rest of you, almost, almost, but after what I'd seen, after what had happened to me, I was afraid to look down, I was afraid to look up. After what happened, I was even afraid when I closed my eyes.
All I can do now is think, I'm too tierd and weak to move, and too afraid to pick up the phone or answer my door. I'm on my own now, nothing could help me through what had happened. I didn't have an urge to "talk about things" with friends or lovers, I was beyond that. I was beyond salvation, beyond help, nothing could bring me back. And nothing could undo what had happened those weeks before.
I woke up and tried my best from stopping myself from screaming, but then I realised that the room had been silent for weeks. The phone had stopped rining, and the door had stopped knocking a while ago. People stopped getting the urge to "help me through this" and after a while I was on my own, I am on my own.
And it's the only way to be after what I did all those weeks ago.