I finally fell asleep… at least, I think I did. Perhaps I was awake… or perhaps I was in that stage of sleep limbo where you’re resting but aware. Whatever it was, it became a familiar nightmare. It went something like this:
Trigger Warning: Self Harm, Suicide
In a cold, empty room, she weeps. The screams inside her head are deafening. The shadows twist and writhe all around her. She is afraid.
What does she fear? Sadness? Loneliness? Monsters in the night? All these and more.
The monsters of her past creep upon her heart, and the demons in their wake feed upon her terror. Pounding at the door, they demand her attention, but she cannot hear them over the sound of the screams inside her head. Horrors that have not even come to pass play over and again like morbid films in her mind’s eye. The very darkness grips and pulls at her, threatening to pull her, body and soul, into the abyss of her fear and sadness.
Still she fights.
Her own screams join the chorus in her skull, echoing through the darkness that surrounds her. Once. Twice. Three times it cuts, deep and merciless, into her flesh. The blood pours from her veins and spills its warmth across her lap, staining the once pristine white of her dress.
The screams begin to fade. The monsters cease their pounding at the door. The shadows become still as the grave. The steady drumming of her heart slows. Her breath becomes shallow. It is over…
A new sound beyond the door. Someone is coming. They’re too late. Light spills over her bloodstained form and she seems gone.
They rush to her, lifting her to the light. Begging her not to go. Whispers of ‘I love you’ and ‘I need you’ reach her ears. With what life yet remains inside her, she feels their hearts breaking.
No… she cannot do this… she cannot leave them.
Moments seem like hours before she moves, just enough to look up and see their tear stained faces.
Two words, all she can manage… “I’m sorry.”
There was a time when dreams of suicide were a sweet relief, a longing for the silent peace of death. This one was so different, though… the same cold room, stark and filled with sentient shadows and under siege by beasts unknown. The same sharp cry for death.
The ending changed, though. Someone came for her… no one’s ever come for her before. I don’t know what changed in my mind, exactly, that made it rewrite the ending to one of my oldest recurring dreams, but I’m glad it did.
I think, perhaps, it is the love that has entered my life of late. The people I know would hurt the worst if I ended my life were the ones who saved her, this time. My loves. The ones who tell me what I mean to them and I cannot help but see the sincerity in their eyes and hear the love in their voices.
This Year of Infinite Love is already looking to be a beautiful one. Love, in all its forms, is helping me rewire my brain and give myself back a life I’d thoroughly given up on. With the help of my loves, with all of my support network, and the strength of my own heart, this will be the year I take back my life and reclaim the joy and positivity that I lost when my world crumbled and my remaining sanity shattered.
Powerful thing, love. Guess we’re going to find out just how powerful this year.