When I was small I was attacked by someone in a basement and it coloured my life a certain shade of hurt and anger familiar to people reading this. Life repeats itself, doesn’t it, in ways that echo the original. A different stage, better lighting, costumes updated yet the theme remains the same. Attack from an outside source. Shouting into the void. Vulnerable. These neighbours that I’ve mentioned before, one of them even bears the same name just to drive the essence home in case I missed it, in case I thought what is happening today was anything but a repeat of yesterday. It’s an emotional flashback I’m in, a repetition in real time of something torturous that makes me freeze. I am alone. I am terrified. They, the neighbours, are just being shit cunts in their own shitcunty way that holds an essence of their own, meanwhile in my hurtle though time my Saturday night and Sunday morning have been splattered with the certain shades of hurt and anger that render me unable to see straight. That send me to the bunker, incapable of receiving even the most tentative of reaches. I made myself sit near Andy and let him stroke my back. Even that was difficult. I tried a hug but I couldn’t do it. I’m aware a calmer, less frightened me would wish an end to the suffering and the causes of suffering to those un-name-ables whose houses I can see from my bedroom window but today I wish they’d meet terrific, terrible ends and be gone and all of this would stop as I wished it would stop long ago and wasn’t heard.
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That proximity to something that lands as a threat is brutal, so taxing on the nervous system. I'm sorry. I commend you for managing to ask Andy to stroke your back. And I echo Melissa's prayer for their swift ejection from your world.
I had those neighbours for one year it was a tightrope of fear , anger , rage and sorrow .. they threatened me and mine .. they are gone. I pray yours go too 🙏