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Well, it has been an interesting day, to say the least. I am still fighting a bit of a cold, so I chose to stay home and not go to church today. I went on a chat site to talk to some friends about my depression, and while we were talking, I started having a pretty strong flashback. One of my friends there has my phone number, so she called me, and listened while i cried to the point i could barely talk. Feeling slightly better after i unloaded, i fidgeted, played video games, and made lunch. Then, some remnant of my flashback nagged at me, and i started to write. The result was my latest story, "A second letter from a (Formerly) broken toy" a sequel of sorts the my piece "A letter from a broken toy". I think it shows some progress.
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Flashbacks.
Hi Again Dorothy.
Beverly here.
It feels wierd to me that you shut stuff out from your memories and cant recall stuff.
I have brutally painful memories and I wish to this day that I could forget some of it.
I just don't know which is worse. Flashbacks must be terrifying if something 'crops up' and it's a memory of something never before remembered.
I just can't get my head around that. What hurts me is knowing I'll never, never get requittal and trying to forgive is nigh on impossible even though I try. Often when I'm sitting alone, stuff comes back to me and reduces me to tears, angry tears, embarrasing tears, frustrating tears.
The only consolation is that I've survived. Your words about the 'best revenge is living a better life' are just so, so true.
Just hand on in there girl. Don't let go.
Beverly.
Growing old disgracefully but firstly, determined to grow old.
Growing old disgracefully.