Okay, are you ready to continue with our conversation?
Not really…sort of…I feel like a psycho, talking to myself.
Yeah alright, I’m avoiding it…
So…do you want to have this conversation?
Because it’s not going to be forced on you…like everything else…you have a choice…
Okay. Yes I get it. It’s a conversation I need to have. And I’m not going to have it with anyone else. And yes, I have a choice…and as much as my insides are cringing…I’m here.
Alright. So, the last conversation ended with the knowledge you were being incongruent in areas and then you shut down because you felt like you left her behind…alone.
Do you think you really left her behind? Left her alone?
Yes I do. And I get why. But I left her there. And by forgetting her…or forgetting, or letting the whole thing go…where does that leave her?
Well, where does that leave her? It’s like it never happened and she’s fucked over for a second time.
So what do you need to do for her then?
I’ve done it…I’ve forgiven myself…I know that I was to young to have done anything different…that I survived. I get all that. But its like she never existed.
You haven’t answered me.
I need to lay her to rest…I think. Acknowledge what she did…But it still feels like she never existed!…if I forget her…
No one’s asking you to forget her.
Yes they are. They all want me to forget her…forget me.
Really? Do you really think that’s what they’re asking of you?
Yes. Well that’s how its perceived. They don’t want to hear about it…they get that glazed glassy ‘oh for fucks sakes, not again’ look.
Do you think it just makes them feel uncomfortable?
And that’s why I call it a mundane horror. It is real…everyday…everywhere…and I don’t really think anyone gives a shit.
That’s not true…those that give a shit, do. Those that appear not too, are uncomfortable with unwelcome truths. But that’s not the complete point is it.
No….no its not. Its, like…
Like no ones listening?
So if no one listens then how will they remember her and what she did?
They don’t need to listen yet, because you’re not really ready to let any one touch that piece of you. You talk about it…you write about it…but you still can’t acknowledge honourably, what she did, what both of you did…to survive…and then let her go.
Have you heard of Veterans or Soldiers Remorse and Survivors Guilt?
Are you trying to compare this to going to war? Me being like a soldier or something? Because that would just be crass!
Have you heard of those things?
I think you have remorse associated with leaving her…disassociating. And guilt for surviving…living.
You think so do you.
Yes I do. I think you don’t live because your scared and you feel guilty. Remorse for switching off and watching her suffer…knowing that the act of degradation she endured led to your survival; but her demise.
Do you ever think that maybe she did that to save you…this part of you?
And by not living you aren’t honouring her memory, your pissing on it?
How do you honour someones memory? How do you remember what they did…how they did it…and what was accomplished by doing it?