“I don’t want to think about it anymore. I mean, I never wanted that. But…” Bella sighed and fiddled with her thumbs, looking down to avoid the shrink’s overly-analytic gaze. “It’s not what I want on my mind when I’m with my guy. It makes things so difficult and complicated. I’m tired of difficult and complicated. I want normality. I want to look at him in those intimate moments and only think of him. I don’t want to be constantly pushing that--that--memory out of my mind. It’s been 7 years! When will it stop?”
Bella clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. She didn’t like talking about it. She didn’t like reliving it. But she supposed it was better that the memories came flooding back here rather than other moments that she wanted to enjoy. As she was walking home, she felt the tightest of knots in her throat. She would’ve ordinarily taken the bus, but she needed to walk these feelings off. She needed the the sound of the sirens in her mind to cease; for the phantom pain in her head to subside; for her broken spirit to mend. She felt crappy--it was the post-shrink effect; she always felt crappy after visiting a psychologist. When she could no longer take it, she stopped at a corner store and bought a pack of cigarettes. Right there, she leaned against the brick outside of the building and took a long drag on the fag. Her body readily welcomed the warmth that took over, and the almost instant calming effect it had on her. She felt a tad guilty. She’d tried hard to quit and had succeeded for a couple of months now. She’d of course had a few cravings in Africa, but somehow nothing compared to this. After just a few puffs, she stubbed the cigarette out and resumed her journey. In her bag, she carried a refilled bottle of her prescription meds. At least there was that.
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Isabella Kaylee DwyerWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
December 2017
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