As I was staring on my birthday at a cake I bought myself as per an online friend's suggestion, staring at a lonely candle looking disinterested to the occasion, I felt scared. I got up and screamed loudly "I am scared", the ruthless winter and lack of heat in the house left the windows shut ushered the echo to come out of its hiding screaming "I am scared". Silence ensued for merely seconds before the walls screamed "I am scared". The doors, the chairs, the tables, the curtains, the carpets, the books, the notebooks, the paintings and pencils screamed "I am scared".
Soon after that the sound of fear felt scared shouting "Enough!". I was afraid of staying home so I ran into the street. I glimpsed a cottonwood tree, broken, I was too scared to look at it, I still don't know why. A military convoy passed by me, so I was too scared to walk in the street. I was also afraid of going back home, but I did.
I was afraid that I might have forgotten my keys inside the apartment, when I found it in my pocket I felt assured. I was afraid the power might have come out so I flipped the switch in the hallway and it worked, so I felt assured. I was afraid of slipping on the stairway breaking my back in the process, but I didn't, so I felt assured. I was afraid the key wouldn't open the door, but it did, so I felt assured and entered the house.
Few seconds passed and I was afraid I might have forgotten myself in the living room after the foreign soldiers finished their year long interrogation with me in Abu Ghraib, and when I saw that it was only me who entered, no one else, I felt assured.
The moment when I stood in front of the broken mirror, the shattered glass shining around the sleeping pills, I listened to the sound of silence no longer saying "I am scared", and for some odd reason, I was no longer scared.
Hello @amirtheawesome1,
I think this might be used in psych training, for PhD students who want to get an idea of what PTSD, or generalized anxiety feels like. The brain is wired. There is no escaping the panic. Of course, at the end you do offer the idea of escape that might occur to someone in this state.
This is a first person narrative. There can be no other way to experience the story. Vivid, riveting, real.
As usual, great job.
Yeah, I tried to explore this idea with what I know from my own experience as well as talking to people from the extreme end of it. I wanted to show those feelings or actions that you could kind of, but not really, understand. It ended up being much shorter than I thought it would be when conceptualized it eight months ago, which I liked as it makes it digestible and I feel more details would have ruined it, if that makes any sense.
Thank you for your great comment, as well as the great job you have been doing around the community.
This works great as you wrote it. Although, I think a more complex exploration of this personality type--maybe as part of a novel--would be great. PTSD is not a solitary phenomenon. It affects everyone connected to the person. That is an important part of this story. Hard to show but would be fascinating.
Thanks for your kind words about my participation on Ink Well. I love writing. It enriches my life. Encouraging others is a joy. Ink Well is rewarding and you are part of that :)
Maybe I will take another crack at it when I know more. I am tired of the aesthetically-pleasing style of schizophrenics just seeing people, or PTSD people just seeing war in front of them and just think it's real like that's the whole thing.
Right now, I am just going to work on a short comedy story for change, or some romance.
I don't think your writing will ever lapse into stereotype. Write what moves you,when you want. That's authentic. That has value.