Introductions: What’s in a name anyway?
It tends to start the same way everyday. I’m woken up by a sudden whole body jerk from the same fatal shot to the back by the figure with the mask who has been haunting my dreams for the past few months. Elevated heart rate, my sheets soaked in sweat, and my white pillow cases are smeared with yesterdays mascara.
The split second after the body jerk, I tend to find myself drowning in anger and frustration. Arguing with myself over my incapability of identifying the masked figure. What does it want, or rather yet, what can I offer that is worth killing for? I am defenseless when I am with my own mind, so lately, I’ve been teaching my consciousness to be fearless, especially in the face of a gun preparing to end my life. I mean, what is the worst thing that can happen from dying in a dream, really? The thought of death doesn’t seem to scare me, as I have already had my fair share of brush encounters.
Part of my morning routine is sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, the side that faces the oversized window, and remind myself of a lesson I learned the hard way. I remind myself that it is a beautiful thing to simply not be restrained by the most human of concepts: staying alive!
See, death, my death, doesn’t scare me.
As a living organism I am inclined to do two things out of innate habit: Fuck and Fight to stay alive. I’m a fan of the former and I always have been.
Before I go into any more detail about myself, I want to address a couple misconceptions that will come into your mind. First, I was never sexually abused as a child or teenager. Second, I’m not alone in thinking the things I do, or wanting the things I do. I’m not an outlier, I’m not a stranger over the world wide web, for all you can know, I might be someone sitting next to you, or maybe even laying in your bed.
That being said, I would like to formally introduce myself to you. I’m the girl in an oversized t-shirt and jeans. I’m also the girl in the short skirt and crop top, the one who leaves a little to the imagination. I’m your girlfriend, your best friend, your secret admirer, or maybe even your sister. I’m everyone and no one all at once. I don’t like names, so I won’t assign a name to what or who I am. For all you can know, I might be nothing more than an idea, or better yet maybe even your subconscious, but there are only a few ways to find out.
I look forward to telling you my story. It isn’t necessarily a pretty or straight forward one, but I promise it isn’t a boring one. Tragic, maybe, to some extent. Humorous, most definitely. I count on you to keep reading so I know that someone is still keeping tabs on me, even after all that has happened.
Until next time, sweet dreams.