Chapter 55

I had no one to explain to me of the reasons why I had been having weird dreams. There was no one to talk to about my inner turmoil and the idea of that ate at my inner tummy every time I decided to take a breath.

This particular dream I had, had, it was like my dream had gone back in time to attack me of the things I used to do. When I was young, around fifteen to sixteen, a stage I was not proud of in my life, I used to cut myself. To me, it was not a big deal, I just wanted to lessen the pain that was the only wait it seemed to me. That was, until I watched a documentary that spoke on mental illnesses and I saw how crucial it might be that I have been cutting myself.

This dream felt surreal. The same way it used to be, me using a seashell to try to cut myself at the beach whenever dad was not looking, because I spied the other kids laughing at me or calling me human. This dream, seemed to have gone into my mind, to bring out those horrible moments, those moments in my life that I