dear diary...that's how you should start these things right?
Well i've been told writing down feelings would help me cope with things, worth a shot seeing as drowning myself vodka just makes me forget them for a short while, not a bad thing but I would like something a little more permanent.
I guess I should start with the other day. The radio station bombing...damn this is a lot harder to write about than I thought.
Well I received a text from a dear friend of mine saying she saw smoke, so instantly I went to see what was going on, when I got there, the building was smoking. The thick black smoke clouding my vision and my airways but, there's one thing that I saw very clearly through the smoke. A tall man with a tall old fashioned hat and mustache, he just stood there...looking at me, I still see that figure in my nightmares.
I ran forward to get him to move out of the way but... the building exploded, the intense heat burnt and blistered my skin as I was thrown like a rag doll through the air. Time slowed down, I could see everything so clearly, my friend being flung down the small hill as I reached out to catch her she flew further away, the immense flames roaring in front of me burning my skin, that pain...you wouldn't be able to imagine. But that strange figure was gone, he just ran and left us not a care in the world who was hurt. I was flung into a brick wall, suffering from second degree burns and head trauma. The world around me blurred. All I could see was colours, bright oranges and reds burnt into my iris. The voices around me distorted and blurred. Right in that very moment I was prepared to die, I accepted it, I welcomed it.
But I didn't die, as you can tell if you're reading this.
I should be happy...I should be ecstatic, jumping for joy and doing cartwheels that I survived. But i'm not.
Everyday I wake up, look in the mirror as I get dressed. These disgusting, vile, horrid marks cover my skin. I don't see me anymore, I see this other, weaker version of who I used to be.
During my sleep I dream of the man in the smoke, every time I run to save him from the flames he pushes me back into the heart of the fire and locks the door, leaving me to burn. I can remember how the flames licked my skin, leaving its marks all over me...
I'm nothing anymore, it doesn't feel right anymore, I'ts not me anymore
It may not sound the right idea to everyone but I have to find this man, I have to make him pay, to make him feel my pain. It might bring me closure to the fact I may be scarred for life