The first time i heard the squeals i was three years old. the squeal sounded like a balloon being let out at the highest pitch possible, your ears burned with gut wrenching pain. As the last air exhaled the squeal got softer until it stopped altogether. For years ive avoided going there, how do i trust anyone to understand how bad that squeal/scream is. I dont think Mr Wonka would or could ever understand that squeals like that dont ever change it only takes a moment ti hear that horrible sound and remember the event and know that on the surface we are a formidable force but lying just underneath is a system whose pain is unimaginable.
Hiding behind the togetherness lies memories untold, but we refuse to fall apart to share those memories yet it seems that we are supposed to in order to be heard. how crazy can that be you spend half your life finding ways to get it together then you are supposed to let it fall apart in order to let it go. Surely there has to be a compromise because unless there is then we will never share what ever went on with us because we dont ever want to have to justify to anyone ever again why we are as strong as we are and why we arent a complete nutcase.
2 comments:
I can so relate to what you are saying.
hang in there, JIP. You're doing great.
ang
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