Touched

June 24th, 2019

Every time I close my eyes I see it. I cannot sleep. I cannot even blink. 

I’ve taken a week off of work. I let my phone die, and I refuse to charge it. I haven’t eaten. I’ve lived on coffee, tea, and energy drinks for the last two days. 

My dog is getting restless here at the apartment. I hired a dog walker because I can’t leave the apartment. It’s too much. Fresh air and grass and stone brings me back to the image of an unbreathing chest. 

I don’t want to talk. I feel alone, but I like it that way. I do everything I can not to think about it, I do all I can to keep my mind busy and awake. That is why I am writing. To stay busy and awake. 

My stomach hurts, I’m dizzy, and my coffee is cold because the thought of drinking more of it makes me want to vomit but the thought of eating food is worse. Why do I get to eat food when he doesn’t anymore? What gives me the right!?

I cannot think about that. I cannot think anymore. I will watch tv and I will warm up my coffee and I will not sleep. 

June 26th, 2019 

I ate something. My stomach was growling at me like it was angry so I ate some saltine crackers and then dry heaved over the toilet for an hour. Now I’m drinking more coffee and trying not to think about it. I don’t want to think about anything. 

My boss is angry with me because I took more time off work because I can’t leave my apartment. I don’t want to go anywhere ever again. It’s too much. It’s so hard. I can’t deal with this. I need help. 

I plugged in my phone. It’s charging. I’m not going to talk to anyone because then they’ll just ask me what happened and I can’t talk about that. I’ll never talk about that. I will do some research and figure out what to do about the nightmares and why I’m hearing things and how do I ever sleep again after this? 

I think my dog is mad at me. 

June 27th, 2019

I was watching Tv and drinking coffee and then I passed out. I didn’t mean to but I did. 

I feel better, physically. Less dizzy and nauseous, and I ate some more crackers and my head is a bit more clear and I’m not hearing things anymore. 

But the nightmare. I remember every second of it. I see it over and over and over. 

It went like this. 

I’m walking down a stone path, but underneath the path is black void and above me is black void and everything is black void. I can only move forward down the path. The air is still. There is no smell or sound. I just walk down the path. Then, I hear my dog barking. It’s muffled and distant as though it’s coming from over a mountain a million miles away, but it still stabs into my brain and makes my ears ring so I fall onto the path and my knees hit the stone and I clutch my ears because good God it’s just so painful. 

Then, out of the void, I see a pale, still hand. I scream and scream and scream because I know who’s hand it is. I know what else is there and I don’t wanna look so I squeeze my eyes closed and I scream until I wake up. 

My dog walker can’t make it today so I don’t know what I’m gonna do with Bessy. She’s getting restless. I don’t play with her anymore. I can’t even touch her without crying out in pain because I see the hand flash behind me eyes and I don’t want to look. 

I don’t know why this is affecting me so much. Would going through what I did affect everyone this much? 

All I know is that I feel so much pressure all the time pressing down on me and confining me I can’t even breathe. 

June 30th, 2019 

I broke my phone. On purpose. My mom kept calling and my friends kept calling and my boss kept calling. I couldn’t handle the noise and I hadn’t slept in a while so I picked up the phone and threw it against the wall. It’s broken now. 

I don’t think I can live like this but I don’t know any other option. I can’t talk to anyone. Not even my dog. I can’t leave the house. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. What can I do?

I can keep distracted. I can write. 

I thought about writing about what happened but I can’t even do that. Not yet. Writing it down or saying it out loud makes it real. I can’t accept that it’s real. I can’t. I can’t. 

July 1st, 2019 

I can’t go on. I need to do something. I’ll try anything at this point to make it all go away. I’ll try anything if it will help me sleep and eat and pet my dog. 

I think I need to talk about it. 

I think I need to address it. 

So. Here it goes. 

I was taking Bessy for a walk in the park. It was early morning, since I had the 6 am shift and Bessy needed to be walked before I left. The park was empty, the grass was covered in dew, and everything smelt like mucky greens. A heavy fog was set over the park, so thick I felt like I was walking through the cloud. 

Then, Bessy barked. This was usual because Bessy didn’t bark, almost ever. She didn’t bark at squirrels or children or other dogs. She started tugging on her leash like crazy, which was even more unusual.  So I listened. I followed her. 

That’s when I saw the hand. It was in the grass, pale and boney, and there was a yellowish hue to the pinkish skin. Bright green veins popped out in the hand like rivers on a valley. I think I knew then, but I told myself I didn’t. Followed the hand, up a bare arm covered in needle holes, as pale and veiny as the hand. The hand, and the arm, was attached to a thin, sickly man, laying on the park bench. He was missing patches of hair, and the rest of it was dirty and thin. His eyes were wide open and clouded over, and his chest was completely, eerily still. 

He was dead. A man, no older than 30, was lying dead on a park bench in front of me and my dog was barking like crazy at him. What happened next was a hazy blur, like being drunk but a lot worse. I remember calling the body in and throwing up and a lot of crying. I remember being driven home. I remember getting home and passing out and then the first nightmare. 

And now. I don’t know. I don’t know what to do next. What comes next after this? 

July 5th, 2019 

I went to see my mom. I told her what happened. I have a doctor's appointment and I took a leave of absence and I’m getting a new phone. My friend is going to watch Bessy for a while. I’m going to live with my mom for a while. She’s going to try to help me eat. 

I hope I can continue after this. I hope I’ll stop seeing him whenever I sleep. I think, I hope, that things will get better. But I don’t know. 

July 30th, 2019

I’m going to therapy. I stopped journaling because I was starting to feel better at home, but my therapist told me to start again so I am. 

I have a meal a day now. I sleep almost every night. I talk to my family and some of my friends. Slowly, slowly, I’m recovering. I think things will get better. 

I need things to get better. I’m trying. I’m trying so hard. Right now, I think that’s all that matters. It’s all I can do. It has to be enough.