déja vu

Last night as I lay awake in bed for countless hours, unable to fall asleep, the sounds of the world gradually began to fade away until they eventually plunged into eerie silence; finally, only the ticking of the wall-clock remained and it soon became ominously loud. I needed to go to sleep and I wanted to as well, but it was as if some mysterious supernatural force was preventing the much-needed slumber. As I continued to lie there in complete silence with the sound of my own breath ringing shallow and ragged in my ears, the futility and frustration of the situation took me back to another time, just months old...

...sometimes the accident seems like it was a whole lifetime ago, so far away from reality that it may never have happened. Other times, it feels like the nightmare was merely yesterday, and the loneliness and fear of those days become hauntingly alive all over again.

Last night, it was the latter.

Suddenly, the flood of terrifying memories rushes back uninvited and unwanted, threatening to overwhelm. The screams that pierced that night now reverberate their unwelcome echoes in my awaiting ears. The image of blood, red and glorious, gushing down the face fearlessly - and almost gracefully - flashes past my eyes once again, leaving me nauseated yet thankful. Each recollection that follows is equal in its grotesque vividness and painful reality.

The misery and confusion that engulfed over the next few days now resurfaces to capture and suffocate again. The realisation of being stranded on an endless, deserted plain with no one to hear the desperate pleas for help returns. I am still held captive by the same shackles that now strain to confine me as I beg for freedom...for mercy...for humanity...... none is granted!

Finally, silence reigns once again.

As the first notes of sunrise begin to appear, the room is gently stroked in the tender, warm hues of morning. I turn to stare into the mirror and the faint yet harsh traces of the scars etched across my face glare back stubbornly. The doctors said they would disappear soon; I knew better even then.

Often I look up to the skies and ask, "Is this all really how You meant it to be?" Unconsciously I wait for some sort of an answer, but none comes.

Sometimes I think even He doesn't have the time to listen to me anymore.