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When I Left this Planet Behind

selkiespot

Entry posted by selkiespot in reflecting ·

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I keep thinking about what I can remember of that bathroom.

I can remember a decent amount... What the tiles on the walls looked like, the painting on the wall, the windows, the layout. But the color of the floor remains a mystery to me.

When I was scared that my father was going to kill me, I think a part of my brain decided that what felt the best about starving for air was the idea that I was actually drifting along in outer space. 

Maybe it was the idea that even if I were to die out there - cold, wishing I could breathe, wishing I could scream, wishing I could actually will my head into exploding or anything like that... Even if that were the case, at least I was still so much farther away from these people than I ever thought possible.

At least if my father tried to rip me back to Earth again, that meant he might get hit by space debris and suddenly die. Or he could have his equipment malfunction and end up in an even worse state than I did. It was the nicest fantasy that I could muster at the time, that those tables could suddenly turn.

I did get ripped back to Earth eventually. Always did. But whenever I think about that bathroom floor, I think about the cold vastness of a galaxy expanding, expanding... Like a carpeted arcade floor, almost, but empty, cold, and lifeless. I'm not sure if anyone else understands at this point.

I think I'm starting to, though. I keep thinking about the boy who my father drowned in the sink, who tried to speak up, who only briefly had dreams of becoming an astronaut before he ended up leaving this world for good.

I didn't expect that kid to still be around. He is, though... And nowadays I feel angrier than I have in years.

Somewhere out there (probably on Earth), I like to think that my father just shat himself over something that he can't really explain. I like to think that my anger still makes his blood pressure spike, and he ends up suddenly having a stroke or something... That, too, is a much more comforting thought.

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selkiespot

Afterword:

Wrote this in possibly a hard-to-follow way, but this is one of the first memories I recovered of such explicit dissociation... For the longest time, all I could think of whenever it came to that bathroom was being surrounded by literal stars. 

Though I have since integrated as a person (& generally continue to incorporate these parts into one adult self, somehow) the part of me that experienced this always felt like a ghost after the fact. Someone who died, but stuck around anyway.

I worry for what still remains undiscovered. But I don't feel as afraid about it, lately. I survived, didn't I?

Edited by selkiespot
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selkiespot

@PlumSundae Thank you for the words of support, as always - I don't mind the replies at all. Your posts resonate a lot with me too, & I hope you're doing well.

(Also feel like rewatching Donnie Darko now, honestly... Watched it back when I still lived in pieces, but I weirdly remember it better than most things from that period of time)

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