She doesn't understand

What she can't see.

She doesn't know

What goes on

Inside of me.

She didn't see

The tears I cried.

She doesn't see

The flashbacks I hide.

She didn't hear

The words that flew

Between me and you.

She didn't feel

The pain I feel.

SHe didn't see

That look in your eye.

She isn't the one

Who asks herself why.

She is the one

That made me cry.

Made me relive

It over again.

Made the scene flash,

Caused it all to come back,

But she can't see

What's going on

Inside of me.

Shadows fall across this town

Casting eerie glows.

The darkness all around closing in on me.

I keep my back against the building

For fear what I might see.

Did I lose him?

It started out simple enough,

It was a perfect night.

Dinner and a movie,

A walk in the moonlight.

Then I walked away,

You went one way and I the other.

I started walking home,

I crossed my arms to protect myself from the cold,

That's when I noticed it,

I was being followed.

By who?

How long?

I glanced over my shoulder,

No one is there.

Is that a shadow against the wall?

My anxieties overtake me.

All my fears come rushing back,

My fear of dark places,

And being alone.

Having my back to doors,

And being taken by surprise.

Now I'm alone in the dark

And I can't keep my back to the world.

Am I about to be taken by surprise?

I turn back around and quicken my pace.

Someone else does, too.

Where can I go?

I don't want to lead him to my house.

Everything is closed because of such a late hour.

I have to get home,

But will it be alive?

I hear the footsteps become quicker and quicker.

I look back,

There he is.

There's a man that ducks back into the shadows.

I turn back around and walk faster,

So does the man.

What does he want?!

I"m trembling from fear.

The dark night allows so much to be unknown.

I begin to run,

But so does the man.

I know he's gaining on me

If I can only reach that alley.

It seems to loom on forever,

But finally I turn into the alley

And lean against the wall.

Where I stand now,

My fear of people behind me fades.

My fear of the dark does not.

I'm not truly alone anymore.

That's worse than being alone.

I decide to move further down the alley.

I suppose that's when he sees me.

He comes rushing down the alley,

I take off running trying to get away.

When I hit a brick wall,

I wasn't expecting a dead end.

I reach my hand to me head

Just before everything goes black,

I see the man.

Movement,

I sense it.

Where am I?

I open my eyes,

My head is throbbing.

What happened?

I vaguely remember parts of what happened.

I wake to find I'm in a van.

Wait, my family doesn't own a van.

I freak out.

I notice the windows are tinted in the back.

I can see the moon bright and full.

Where am I?

What happened?

Where am I going?

I think I"m having a panic attack.

I hear a scream escape from my mouth before I can stop it.

The man stops with a jarring halt.

The man in the front looks back at me.

It all comes back.

The alley, everything.

I'm scared.

I see him reach beside his seat.

What is that?

He comes back to where I'm sitting,

Take the syringe and injects the cool liquid into my veins.

"No!" I scream.

Then I sink back in unconciousness.

When I wake up again, I'm in a room.

There's no furniture in the room.

I hear the voice of a man downstairs,

Then footsteps on the stairs.

I see the knob turn and open.

I think I'm having another panic attack.

He comes in sending more fear into me with each step.

He walks over to the window I failed to notice from the angle which I was sitting.

He seems preoccupied.

I norice the door is open.

This is my chance.

My breathing is hard and fast.

I jump up and run out the door.

The man turns and starts to run after me.

I stumble down the stairs,

Barely ahead of him,

I reach the door.

Locked.

He comes up behind me,

His eyes are red with fiery.

A scream escapes.

He grabs me by the wrist,

I try to break free.

His grip is to strong.

I see his hand move,

Then

Everything

Goes

Black.

I'm unconcious again.

Tossing, turning,

I sit up with a jolt.

I'm in my room again.

It was all a dream,

Nothing but a dream.

I lay back down,

I"m sweating with fear.

It was just a dream,

But how come it felt so real?

In silence, it's difficult to avoid our thoughts, feelings, and doubts. If they are not comfortable thoughts, if we'd rather not death with them, we can drown them out with noise. (Isn't much of the pain of insomnia the silence that makes it impossible for us to ignore the little slimy green things in our heads?) Noise can open us to people's ideas, or can be a take-off for our own ideas. The sound of silence can be the sound of a mind at work, or the sound of seperation, isolation, and/or death. It's deeply inhuman. It can be threatening, like in religions it can be punishment as in ex-communication. If we absoluty require noise, it may be because we need the comfort of our own kind. We need friendship, gossip, news. We need to bounce our minds off other people's ideas. The noise we aboslutly must have to survive, may be simple human conversation. As long as we've got this we're fine.


Silence is frightening because it strips us as nothing else does, throwing us upon the stark realities of our life. Noise is trying to fill in the infinite with the finite. We have an infinite void in our hearts that we attempt to fill with noise, people, busy-ness, possessions, and other infinite things. We are addicted to noise. We need noise. We've got to have noise! Silence is creepy, even frightening, silence steals away the distractions of life which anesthietize us from the feeling that our lives are still empty. Noise helps us live on the banks of denial. Noise keep us concentrated on something else, anything else.


Think about how much we hate to think. There is a t-shirt that reads, "When I work, I work hard. When I play, I play hard. When I think...I fall alseep." Contemplation is a four-letter word. Reflection is for mirrors and pools and highway signs. Why? It's because when we look at what our life really consist of, we are terrified by it's vast emptiness.


All our attempts to fill our infinite emptiness with finite things are simply a long string of distractions that occupy our mind until we slip into blessed unconsciouness. Think of all the things people do to "get their mind off 'it'"-whatver 'it' might be.


We are addicted to company. Notice also the many ways we work to fill the space around us. We fear being alone. We fear solitude. It is this fear that reveals a desperate insecurity within ourselves. However, our attempts to fill our lives with company will never satisfy the true hunger of the heart-community with God.


If you sum it all, it's the attempt to fulfill a feeling of isolation, to cover up the fact that your alone or feeling immense pain. Noise can affect your sleep and behavior, or can make an annoyance become an emotional response.

People use sound as a sense of security so they don't feel alone. Music is used for pyschological control. It's carefully times to human rythmns. The noise replaces the dead silence that makes us think we've been forgotten, diverts us prehaps, from noticing how long we've been alone. Music also turns off your thinking and turns on pure pyschological response. We can use it as a weapon to a way of asserting power, or claiming space. We can tune out everything around us and use it to focus on your own sounds.



 

This is the testimony of my life. I'm very private and this is written in a document because I can't talk about it much. The pain is still very real to me. I can't say the words m--- and r--- because they cause flashbacks so if this seems a little strange when I get to that part. Please bare with me. Also, this was on a website so some of the stuff might seem strange. So, bare with it.... Anyways, here goes. My family consisted of the usual, a mom, a dad, and a daughter (that'd be me). I thought we were the perfect little family as most little kids do. I didn't think much of it when Dad never came home for days/weeks/sometimes months at a time. I just thought it was the way of life. I grew older though and it wasn't normal I realized. Dad was a truck driver and he was now missing holidays: Christmas, Thanksgiving, Valentine's Day. Where was he? I kept asking myself. So Dad wasn't there for much of my life. When he was 35, I was 9, he had 2 mild heart attacks. He wasn't the same afterwards. They say when someone has a heart attack, if they were nice before, they won't be afterwards and vice versa. In case your wondering, in my case it was true...to a point. See, I also thought that being hit was normal. That when other kids got spankings it was suppose to leave a handmark or a bruise. I didn't know. I also didn't know that when you got spanked with a belt, it wasn't suppose to leave you breathless on your bedroom floor for almost 15 minutes. That stopped after the heart attacks but if I only had known what was coming. I would have rather been beat. I was 12 years old and dad had a night job. He slept all day ...gone all night. This was new since usualy he wasn't home at all. I was in school during the day so it wasn't much different. Dad came in at 6, when I was getting up. I left for school. Came home, did homework/watched tv until 4, woke Dad up, Dad got ready for work. Mom came home made supper, took Dad to work did it again. Until one day when that all changed. I was to wake Dad up at 4. I was sometime in August. I was 12 years old and had just started 6th grade at a new school. (Btw, I'm 15 and I've lived in 17 different house and gone to 5 schools.) It was 4 'o clock. I went up the stairs and walked into my parent's room."Dad, get up. Time to get ready for work. Get up, Dad" Dad woke up and said he'd get ready. He then pulled me into the bed. I was stunned and didn't know what to do. Nor what he was going to do. He began sticking his hands up my shirt and down my pants. I was stunned. I remember thinking what do I do. This isn't right. I knew it wasn't right but this was my dad what did I do? Somehow I found a way to get away. I went downstairs and my mind was racing. I didn't know what to do. Things progressed this way a couple more times. He would whisper in my ear "I love you" and "This is how you show someone you love them." One day I was home sick and he came into my room and did things. I would take showers and have the doors shut. When I got out the doors would be open and he'd be sitting there. This was my dad. There was the time he pushed me on the bed and held my hands. He was undressing me. He was trying to have sex with me. I screamed "your hurting me" and "let me go" but nothing seemed to phase him. Somehow I wiggled free from his grasp, ran downstairs and threw up. He had been telling me "don't tell, don't tell mom" I vowed I wouldn't. There was nothing that could make me. I begin enrolling in all kinds of after school programs. Mom thought it was to make new friends which I didn't have many of (still don't). I was really doing it so I wouldn't have to go home in the afternoon. That year any award a 6th grader could get for an extracirrucular activity, I got. It still didn't stop him. There was always a way. To speed this up, there was a knock on our door. The date: January 20, 2002. It was my uncle. Our family was big on get togethers. We'd had one the week before. My uncle asked if I would take my cousins upstairs so my mom and them could talk. Upstairs in my bedroom, my youngest cousin said to my older, "That officer was nice. He gave me a teddy bear." I didn't understand at that point but Philip (the older cousin) said "Shut up" and glanced at me and then down. About an hour later my uncle called the kids down and mom said, "Pack some clothes. We're going to grandma's." I was confused but did as I was told and we drove to grandma's. Later Mom came downstairs and said "We need to talk." I hated those 4 little words. She said that Lauren (younger cousin) had accused my dad of trying to touch her at the get together the week before. She said dad said to tell you everything. She asked if anything had happened to me. I shook my head and rolled over and feel alseep not knowing what to do. I went to school that week in a daze. Nothing felt right and Mom kept on with that persist question. Has anything happened to you? Has he done anything to you? My repeative answer was no. Friday, January 25, 2002. 9:30 A.M, math. I walk up to my teacher and tell her I feel sick. She says I look horrible and sends me to the nurse on a pass. I get to the nurse and she takes me temperture. 103.4. Going home. She calls my mom at work and mom says she'll be right over. 11 A.M. Mom arrives. We're driving down the road from the middle school and she asked that question one more time. I shake my head no for the thousand time that week. I want to throw up. Then she says something that sparks fear all through my body, "the doctor will find out if anything has happened. Now, has anything happened?" I froze. I'm 12 years, sick as a dog, and have no clue what to say. I'm tired and sick, I give in. I slowly nod yes. "He has?" I nod again. She goes into hysterics. She pulls off into the Bigfoot, across from the car wash. She goes through the ashtray looking for change. I hear her through the window tell grandma what I've said. I close my eyes and wish to just drift away. She gets back in the car and we drive to my house. That sits me up. She said to stay in the car. 20 minutes later she comes bursting out of the house, crying. She said he didn't say he did it, and he didn't say he didn't. We drive to the police station. I've got chills from my high fever. We park in front of the station and walk up. There's a little box inside a hallway with a big steel door and the end. Mom pushes a button on the box and tells him why we're here. A police officer comes through the door not 2 minutes later. He ushers us through and into an office on the right. He gestures to two chairs. The big steal door clangs. The noise in the station is deafening. Phones ringing, people screaming, fax machines. It seems like utter chaos. The officer asks me a bunch of question. None of which I wish to repeat here. He tell mom after half an hour or more (it seemed like days) to get me to a doctor. They make the examinations there. We get back in the car after the officer gives me this dopey little bear that's blue with one of those old fashioned police hats on it (a couple months I found this and gave it to my dog, glad for him to rip it into shreds). We went to the hospital and she got me something for my fever and prescribed me a prescribtion. She then said "this is gonna hurt." I already figured it would but was too sick and tired to care. It hurt but she said there was signs I was abused sexually. The police had a case. She said she would call the detective. I walked out to the waiting room only to find my worst nightmare. Everyone was there. The entire family. It was the last thing I wanted to see. Papaw and Mamaw took my to their house. Mom went and got my meds. That afternoon we went to the house and loaded everything up took it mamaw's. There was nothing left in the house. While we were at mamaw's there was a knock on the door. I was with my cousins in mamaw's bedroom doing something. Mom was back at the house getting a few other things. I noticed in the driveway there were three cop cars. At the door, three cops. Aunt Kim and Mamaw went outside. A few minutes they rushed in the house yelling for my uncles and grandparent's. "We gotta go get Ange!" My mom is Ange. They rushed out of the house leaving the kids and my Uncle Bill there. We went into my grandparent's room to watch TV. I remember thinking what's happened to mom and asking Ashley (oldest cousin) what was going on. She said she didn't know but that it was going to be okay. I hoped it would. I had been saved almost a year. Baptised three weeks before. I prayed to God everything was okay. I thought maybe Dad and come back and did something to Mom. That was far from the truth. I don't remember them coming back. I don't remember falling asleep. All I remember is waking up the next morning and the whole family was there again. It must have been about noon. Mom sat me down. "I have something to tell you" Those aren't good words either. "Dad died last night. He was in a car accident. He's with Jesus now. He's gone." Dad had been in lots of car accidents. I never expected it though. I went into shock. I'm not a crier but I felt two tears run down my face. "I have to go back funeral arrangements today. Are you okay?" I nodded. "Do you want to go with me?" I shake my head. "Okay." Aunt Kim says that I can go to her house with the girls if I want. I nod. I watch my uncle tell my little cousins. They don't understand. I got to my aunt's and we watch movies and stuff. I'm not real enthusiastic. The showing is Monday and the funeral is Tuesday. I really want to go back to school just to get my mind of things. Mom won't let me. I got back the next week. I just want to dive back into my school work. I have a memory laspe between January 28 until sometime when we bought our first house. It's a laspe of about 3 months were I don't remember anything. I know mom sent me to counseling and because I wouldn't talk I was discharged. One thing I do remember from that time is this, Dad's death was at 3:45. Driving down the road, possible destination, our church. Cross the yellow line in front of a truck. Change mind, swerve back. Look in the passangers seat, there's a note they'll find. It'll explain everything. Cross the yellow line again. Semi-truck. Collision, ejection through the windshield. Death. My dad commited suicide. He had told mom earlier if he was guilty he would. Guess he proved I wasn't lying. I thought everything was going smoothly when I passed the 1yr anniversary. Good on the 2 yr anniversary. Then things went downhill again. I'm almost done with my story but to understand where I am now, this is what happened and I'll try to make this as short as possible. In August, I started a journal on a website called Xanga www.xanga.com/alonereject is my page. I stopped eating. I was cutting. I was thinking about going deep into the viens on my wrist. I lost 20 lbs in a week. Almost 40 lbs in 2 months. I had an ED. I don't know when but sometimes during these months my mom talked to some of my online friends. They told her that I had tried to slit my wrist the week before. They gave her the website to my journal and she read it. If you go back to the beginning there's some dark pages. I was wearing a lot of black because it's "thinning". I was obsessed. I was confronted by my mom with the information she had and was yet again cornered. I was drove to a local mental institute. The wished to admit me but my mom wouldn't let them. I was being admitted for eating disorder: aneroxia nervosa and thoughts of self-harm. I had to sign a consent to safety document claiming I would not kill myself after leaving the hospital. Since Mom wouldn't let them admit me the alternative was a group therapy program at the hospital. An Tntensive Outpatient Program. 3 nights a week for 5 hours. I was discharged a couple months later. I had to go to a one-on-one counslor which I still see. I'm still dealing with cutting and there are days I have to force myself to eat. I still don't like the image of myself I see in the mirror and the scars don't help. I've been diagonesed with Post Tramautic Stress Disorder (PTSD) from the abuse. I was abused physically, verbally, and sexually. I have flashbacks of these things also. I had turned my back on God during those months. I have come back to him in December. I think turning my back on God was one of the stupidest things I have ever done. I never wish to do it again. Through God I can find the healing I need to restore my strength that I could no longer handle what was going on around me on my own. My heart was crying out for something, someone, anyone to talk. God tugged on my heart strings and said "Hey, what your looking for is me. Stop being so stubborn and let me back into your life." I released myself to him and he's changing my slowly. I'm a writer. I write poetry. Not all of my poems are the happy. A lot of them came from my depression. I'm working to turn the depression into excitment for Jesus. With some time and some guidance. God will heal me. I want my life to be all for him and nothing else. Well, this is my story. If you made it this far, your good. I hope it touched someone. Your not alone if you've experienced this. Well, I'll shut up now. Thanks for listening.

His name is Sanka,

Some people cal him Tanka.

He makes the other dogs

Look like total hogs.

He raps on the street while eating doggie treats.

He goes on the tree

Then eats some Pedigree.

He's Sanka,

Yea, yea, He's Sanka.

-Again, this is another form of stupid boredom. Disregard this.

The world is in a rut

People think they are so tough.

They don't understand what's going on

Because the blindfolds their wearing are tied to tight

And they don't want to see the things that are right in their sight.

These things they can't see becuase they are so blind.

Some people just need to open their eyes,

Take a look around and see what's in store.

Understand what your missing

And what you don't see.

You'll never know anything if you won't turn around and look at me.

Shut up, Fool!

I won't play these games,

Get off your back and listen to me!

You don't understand,

Yet claim that you do.

What are you?

Mr. Universe?

King of the world?

Who died and made you God?

Don't you see,

Your nothing to people

And nothing to me.

Your no better than I,

Don't you see?!

Why aren't you listening to me?!

You don't know what your talking about,

Your such a fool.

I hate everything about you

Your big, bad, and tough

Or so you seem.

I know the real you

And your nothing but mean.

You yell and scream

Beating me down.

Then turn around and yell and frown.

In the end though,

When you turn around

There I will be.

Daggers will fly

And gazes will kill.

You and me will beat with a chill,

That's when the music fades out and dies.

This is the end,

Of our stupid miserable lives.

I believe I can fly

I've just been hit by the ice cream guy.

All I wanted was a popsicle,

I see me running through the hospital.

Bandages to the floor,

I've just been hit with a big glass door.

I'm nothing but a prisoner,

Someone call the prosecutor.

The doctor said my concussion will be fine,

That's probably why I can't remember my crime.

I hope it wasn't really bad,

Gee, I hope I didn't wet the bed!

I believe I'm gonna die.

-This is a parody to the song "I believe I Can Fly" This is a production of sheer boredom and utter stupidty it has no meaning no copyright nothing. This is constructed by Jessica (me), Shelbie, and Kayla. Thank you for all your help.

Surrounded by darkness,

Tombstones all around.

I'm wearing a white dress,

Trying to put my tortured soul to rest.

Death is calling me in,

Calling my name.

Pulling me into the grave.

My body is enveloped in flames.

Blood spills from my wounds.

A new stone sits off-set and new.

A hollow tree above,

Swaying and blowing with the chilling wind.

Black roses fill the tombstone vase.

The girl in the coffin with a dress made of lace.

Chilling darkness all around

No sound can be heard,

Except the rustle of the trees,

And the soft blow of the breeze.

I hear a demon scream my name,

Their deathly howls make me afraid.

A face runs through my mind,

Flashbacks of time.

Death sinks in,

I can't resist.

It engulfs my soul

Covering it with darkness.

I'm bleeding, dying,

Screaming from the pain.

Cutting the soul,

Then cutting my flesh.

You stuck a dagger in my back,

Then I ran it across my flesh.

The life is being taken from me.

I'm dying and no one can save me.

No one cares I'm dead.

So I walk through the shadows

Haunting the people of my past.

Until at last, they breathe their final breath

And sink into the grave.

Why didn't you save me?

When your the only one who could.

Please, save me.

Your taking over me.

There was pain when nails struck flesh,

And went through board.

Hands and feet stained with blood.

Ripped flesh and crown of thorns

Saved my soul before I was even born.

If that pain could be beared,

How much more should I praise my Jesus

And let mine be no more.