Broken.

Lately I feel like I don’t need more regressions to remember or to get in past life mood, it feels weird because this way I don’t get new memories, only flashes of old places, old situations, maybe new thoughts I’m not sure of because I’m not “deep” enough... but above all, I get raw emotions, too raw, too tough, too... wild. I’m not feeling like this trying to meditate, only through self-reiki or whatever it is called, sometimes you feel nothing, sometimes it’s just… wow! Like now, like this evening… all unexpected, no, not unwanted, I guess, but I’m not impatient to know more, to feel more, it just… comes.

And it feels good, so good… no idea how it works but the best way to explain is like having an infected, rotten wound, swollen, with only a tiny hole to get inside. You take water with a syringe and you flush it all inside, and then the water comes out through the hole, cleansing the inside, draining all the pus and the worms and the black, stinking material… only, water is energy, white and shiny energy, and emotions are all the rest. They are intense emotions, but they don’t hurt anymore, you cry but you’re not crying of pain, you cry of relief, it’s like a soft summer rain pouring on you.

While seeing myself in these past situations, I was thinking something like this:

BROKEN. I love this word. I loved it when Bran (character of Game of thrones) said he had now a broken body. It sounds tough, it sounds true, you say it when something can’t be repaired, and there are moments in your life when you feel it, when you feel your soul is being broken, when you know there’s no turning back, no chance to regain hope, love or trust. When did you feel like this? Well, the first time he slapped me, the first time he raped me… and when you’re in prison and they tell you to confess. To confess what? I will never confess something I did, not being guilty. They don’t even know what happened, crimes are being ignored here while I’m the only one who is going to pay for it. Guilty of what? Of living a broken life? And for what? To change death for a life in prison? That sounds ironic, as that's what I was trying to escape from. Time takes me back to where it all started…

BROKEN.Like those words from the song by Marillion, long before Bran, the verse that says “Breaking someone up inside (is your only source of pride)". Words that resonate with you but you never know why… until now, because that’s what they did to you, that’s what the verse means, a harm that can’t be repaired, not through a whole lifetime, not even through a few lifetimes, you just broke and you started bleeding, and you’re still bleeding to death, because that’s how it feels… a sweet death, almost like a drug going through your veins and making you forever asleep, only death never comes, and you keep bleeding, ever since it all started.

A BROKEN RIB, A BROKEN EYE, A BROKEN LIFE, A BROKEN NECK, EVERYTHING BROKEN, just because he wasn’t ready to love. You didn’t love me? Ok, but you could have at least respected me. Love and respect, aren’t those the marriage vows, those we made on the altar, before God? Now I pray to God to save me but I know nothing will do, too late for that, maybe I should have put an end to it back then, that time in the bathtub… but no, it’s not me who must die. It wasn’t me who was going to die…

How much pain, how much hate, how much rage can you carry with you? All boiling inside, through a whole life and beyond. It seems no one noticed, but it was all there, beneath the sweet appearance of an innocent woman. I still hear the wound cracking, like a log that cracks in the fire, breaking. But it will stop. It has to stop.