1. Memory /ˈmɛm(ə)ri/ noun

    May 11, 2016  |  0 Comments

    the faculty by which the mind stores and remembers information.
    something remembered from the past.
    “I don’t want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again.”
    F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise

    My nightmares have been taking over me. Familiar nightmares. They don’t terrify me, they’re familiar. They warm my heart and turn me ice cold as soon as I wake up.

    I arrive to the airport of my beloved country to which I have become a fugitive. As soon as I arrive, the coldness of the handcuffs hit my wrists as I’m being taken away, all while the silent surrounding is calm and collect. No one is staring, there’s no shock. It’s just me being taken away as everyone else continues on their governmental ride to enter their homeland. I then look around and find myself in the familiar prison I spent my last long 7 months in. A feeling of warmth washes over me. I get to see my “friends” again. I get to see the guards that I loved, the nurse that saved me, the girls I eternally will think of as my family. I’m slightly aware that I’m naked of my stuff. My stuff. I need my stuff. I start to get overwhelmed, remembering that while I was comfortable here once upon a time, I’m not anymore. I begin to panic as they unlock my handcuffs and sign me in. They already have my mugshot and fingerprints, so no need to go through that ordeal, I thought. What am I thinking? Is this really okay? I was denied from making a phone call. “Why? No one knows I’m here! I need to tell people I’m here.” But do I really? What good would that do. It’s not like it really mattered the first time. I then think of a couple of people I really want to see. Just two I need to see. I keep getting denied making a phone call. Well, it’s not like the first time I was here I was allowed to make much, if any. I need to call them! I start to breathe heavily and quicker. I’m starting to panic. “I’m going to have a panic attack” is all that’s going through my mind. Oh shit.

    I wake up, it’s cold. A rush of the last four years of every memory just passes me. My cat is sleeping on my head, and I realize how icy my body feels. My last two fingers on each hand is numb. This is how I begin to have my attacks. Every time I have these dreams. I wake up the same way. I tend to my bathroom needs, sit down, and love my cat as my hands begin to get their warmth back.

    Happy freedom anniversary, me.. May 11th, 2013.

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