I Think I Am Just Going To Write Stuff
I was just looking at the last text that he sent me, because that was the day where things got out of control. His last message was an apology... well, an apology for him. It said, 'Did you get to your place safely?'
It's crazy to look at the date and see that the whole thing took place 5 weeks ago. The pain and the memories are all still so fresh in my mind, it feels like it's only been a day.
It's bizarre how time can manage to flex or outstretch itself in our mind's perspective, according to the intensity of our experiences.
I still remember being in his room. laying in his bed, as I usually did after a night out downtown. I remember him bursting into the room, furious that he had let me into his house... apparently he had changed his mind about me being there all in the 15 minutes that it had taken me to get ready for bed. I remember him yanking me out of the bed. My back hit his metal bed fr<x>ame on the way down, and he continued to pursue me, placing his large hands around my neck.
He had done this a thousand times before, so this isn't what had phased me... it was when I could no longer speak, or beg him to stop. It was when I realized that he wasn't planning on stopping and that I no longer had control over my life. it was when I stopped struggling, when everything around me began to fade from focus, and I looked up at his angry eyes and realized that my life was no longer in my possession.
The images, thoughts, and emotions from that moment in time still creep back into my thoughts at the most inopportune moments. I still hear myself, struggling to let the smallest ounce of noise escape from his airtight grip around my throat.
It's crazy to look at the date and see that the whole thing took place 5 weeks ago. The pain and the memories are all still so fresh in my mind, it feels like it's only been a day.
It's bizarre how time can manage to flex or outstretch itself in our mind's perspective, according to the intensity of our experiences.
I still remember being in his room. laying in his bed, as I usually did after a night out downtown. I remember him bursting into the room, furious that he had let me into his house... apparently he had changed his mind about me being there all in the 15 minutes that it had taken me to get ready for bed. I remember him yanking me out of the bed. My back hit his metal bed fr<x>ame on the way down, and he continued to pursue me, placing his large hands around my neck.
He had done this a thousand times before, so this isn't what had phased me... it was when I could no longer speak, or beg him to stop. It was when I realized that he wasn't planning on stopping and that I no longer had control over my life. it was when I stopped struggling, when everything around me began to fade from focus, and I looked up at his angry eyes and realized that my life was no longer in my possession.
The images, thoughts, and emotions from that moment in time still creep back into my thoughts at the most inopportune moments. I still hear myself, struggling to let the smallest ounce of noise escape from his airtight grip around my throat.
31-35, F
