Feb 2018
When I was 16 I ran from more monsters than I ever did when I was young. Well..younger. At 16 years old I was still a child.
At 8 years old I loved ghost stories. Mysteries. ****** doo, goosebumps. I was sure I was going to be a forensic scientist just like I saw on CSI.
At 16 I was taught to see shadows on the faces of strangers. Danger flickered behind the eyes of the people I knew I could trust. That I knew I should trust.
Staying in bed never helped, but some days it was all I could do. Nightmares entered every hour of my restless sleep. No episode of NCIS could stir up as much fear as a face I've tried to forget.
At 20 years old I'm still afraid. Silently and with a smile. A similar face or frame reminds me of the blur of memories that took a brave little girl and forced her to be a terrified woman.
At 8 years old I loved ghost stories. Mysteries. ****** doo, goosebumps. I was sure I was going to be a forensic scientist just like I saw on CSI.
At 16 I was taught to see shadows on the faces of strangers. Danger flickered behind the eyes of the people I knew I could trust. That I knew I should trust.
Staying in bed never helped, but some days it was all I could do. Nightmares entered every hour of my restless sleep. No episode of NCIS could stir up as much fear as a face I've tried to forget.
At 20 years old I'm still afraid. Silently and with a smile. A similar face or frame reminds me of the blur of memories that took a brave little girl and forced her to be a terrified woman.
An old one I wrote in 2016.
