Whispers Heard as Screams

I’m going on record declaring this complete bull shit.
I don’t know what to say really.  I don’t know what to feel either.
Maybe I am really okay, and it didn’t hurt as badly as it seems.  Or, maybe I’m covering up the greatest pain we’ve ever known throughout the gift of numbness.
I’m sure I am being dramatic.  It’s true; I’m not crying.  No, I’m not overly anxious.  Surely there is nothing wrong.
I mean, what damage has been done? 
Maybe the lack of feelings are because the damage is more intellectual, more cerebral.  Emotionally it’s no big deal, but in my head and my thoughts I know I have been betrayed by others, and I have also betrayed myself, and by extension . . . .  Shhh.  The wind whispers:  dirty, unclean, contaminated.
You may address me as “Whore.”
I may never whisper again. 
I know why you whisper, and I am sorry.  I know who you are, little one.  You are someone who doesn’t want to be here anymore.  I don’t blame you.  But why don’t you want to be here? 
People will see my dirtiness.  Some put on an act that they enjoy it.  Maybe that is why she is confused.  What she knows and what she feels are at war with one another, and I am collateral damage.  Someone is always sacrificed. 
I sense you staring into space.  Where are you going in your mind?
Escape while I can.  Things are calm for now, but soon it will either be complete anxiety or a crushing depression that will descend upon you, and I can’t survive another blow tonight.
Did you take over with Daniel?
I took over afterwards when no one else would, just like back then.

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