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Windows

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newhorizons

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Windows have come to be a prominent part of my life. I don't mean physical windows, no no, but the windows that guide me through the motions of every day life. I feel that my life is spent behind lenses, and not just my glasses. It's difficult to explain but I feel that these windows can be both good and bad for me.

Sometimes, the window is clear. My brain wants me to see the reality of what is happening and what has happened. Sometimes I like it, and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I like remembering and seeing the things that have hurt me, with hindsight and understanding. It helps me to try to understand why I am the way I am, and how to look at these things from afar. The window creates a safe barrier between me and my memories. Most of the time I hate it. I want to scream. I see and hear everything that has happened and I feel like it is being forced onto me. Memories being shown out of no where. It can't touch me through the window but it's smearing it's face on the glass, trying to attack me. But I'm glad the window is there.

If I am being shielded by a clear window in reality, it means that I can either distract myself easily or ignore what has happened. Sometimes this is good. I can ignore the threat and carry on as if nothing is happening, tend to the situation etc. I can look after people very well and not get too bothered by it myself, because there's a window blocking my emotional connection. This can hurt me, as I come to bottle things up and trauma that I don't realise is trauma can come up in the future. My emotions cut off. I'm not in reality. I'm piloting a body and the window is clear.

The window is also foggy at times. I can make out faint remarks of what once was from my memories. I can see things happen but from another perspective, but not clearly. Everything is dirty and there's bedsheets and ceilings to look at. I can't be there, I won't be there.  But part of me wants to be there. The fog is getting stronger the more I peer in. I can see the walls of the scene, hear the breathing, the words said, the fear. My mind won't let me see. But I just want to know why. But then again, I don't want to know at all.

I don't know what else to write. I can't be bothered to edit it... I just wanted to write something. It makes sense to me, anyway. I think I need to call a phone line soon. I'm getting worried about myself. I don't know what to do. ✌️

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