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About Literature / Hobbyist Every Moment Is New20/Female/United States Recent Activity
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    Eye on the clock. I didn't take my medicine. Deep breath. Music. Breathe. 
    I keep going, despite what they say; all the negativity, all the persistence to keep me out of my comfort zone. Bones are sore. Too tired to think about it.
    I laugh. Because I can't remember where I started. All I have is this feeling. These feelings. I'm always left with them. I keep it alive. It's a part of me that I feed. 
    The drawings are so profound. I love looking at them. They make me happy, even if I don't think I've drawn as well as I could. They are definitions. They are moments in time. They are my memories and my dreams. I'll never let go of them. Hopefully, even if I forget, they'll always be important to me. 
    Can't shake the feeling that parts of me are missing. Where the holes have been filled there is a lingering sense of emptiness. That must just be a part of being human, or maybe it's just a part of being me. 
    Forget that I said I could - or would - write for the moments. As often as they've come, I have not written like I wanted to. I have not opened that book, even though my eyes skim it's spine. I do not lay my hands against my own skin. I do not. I DO NOT. 
    I haven't been doing many things like I'd prefer to. And come to think of it, ...
    When was the last time I did something for myself and not felt guilty about it?
   
Who am I? Who was I? Should I dare to ask? Do I dare forget these little moments. They go undocumented. In a labyrinth hospital my patients do not go by names. They are insane; that is why they are here. But soon the doctor will find out that I have not named them. Soon he will discover that I've been harming them, locking their doors, mistreating them. They have wronged me, and although it is not right, I return the favour. I hurt them just as they have hurt me. What does that even mean?
    Can't I hide in the blankets? Haven't I hid there before? It feels like arms, millions. My ears are ringing, my head is hollow. 
    And I just feel like crying. What the hell am I feeling? I don't want to robotize myself. My life means more to me than working forever. I know I have forever ahead of me and I'm trying not to waste it, but sometimes I feel like no one can comfort me. I need to meet someone who can console me in a way a therapist can't, in a way a chiropractor can't, in a way a doctor can't. I want to heal, I want to be understood and interrogated. I want someone to reach into my head and soak a canvas in my dreams. 
    But who's going to understand that...
    Ryan would. Ryan would understand that. 
    
    
    For the first 30 seconds, I was numb, rattled by the happening. It was loud and only lasted for a moment. Robyn's arm was over me. We stopped moving. She was asking me if I was okay. I was at first, and then I wasn't. I realized it.
    We were in a wreck.
    We'd been hit from behind by another vehicle. Our car had spun completely around, the nose facing a line of paused traffic. I watched it back up all the way down the bridge. There were two cars stopped beside us in the right lane. My house key was missing. Robyn hit her head. We didn't die.
    Then I shook. My breath caught in my throat and I choked.
    She was just trying to get me to work...
    She called Jenny after the police and Walmart to report that I'd been in an accident. Jenny went to our house, got Liz and Will together. Oh Liz... that news must have horrified her. "Dressed in 30 seconds," she told me. About the time it took to almost fly off the bridge. In even less time we could have lost our lives. They met us at Mercy. He's worried about the car and the insurance. I guess somebody has to be.
    I came in on a wheelchair. Robyn was on a stretcher with a neck brace. The girl that rear-ended us was in the ambulance we rode in. She had just taken her anxiety medication before leaving for I540. The pain got worse in us all as we got to the hospital.
    I'd told many people everything I could. Police, paramedics, nurses, doctors. I still had the suction cups on me from having my blood pressure and vitals taken. I was tired and scared. I only wanted to make sure Robyn was okay. Liz told me all Robyn wanted was to make sure I was the one who was okay.
    She insisted I get a check up. Nothing felt broken, but boy do I feel the pain of it now writing about it. A nurse took an x-ray of my right arm, since I'd complained about the pain from bashing it into the door of the car. Jenny had held my hand just before as I was whipping my tears away. She told me not to blame myself. "It wasn't your fault."
    The x-ray room was something straight out of a horror story. The room was dark with a single flickering light in the ceiling. The paint on the sitting stool was chipped and there were wires all over the room. I was all taken care of, despite my empty-mindedness at the time. Once the adrenaline wore off and I was acknowledging everything, my muscles were aching and they still are. Now I get to worry about work and all that comes with the delay of nearly escaping death. 
    Nothing's broken, nothing bled. Dear heaven, I made it out alive... yet I cried all the way home, holding her hand.
    It was a while before I could leave room 21 to visit Robyn in 13. When I did, I was relieved to hear her talking and laughing. Telling jokes, checking Facebook maybe 15 minutes after seeing the doctor. I was glad, ignoring Will's crude remarks and gestures. I've done my best to put him out of my mind completely, but he was part of the rescue team, and did also inform my mother who I have since reassured that I'm completely safe. 
    Now, the healing. 
Six by Etsor
Six
Credit to *ToshikiJeevas*
My main three ocs (bottom) corresponding with hers.
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    Eye on the clock. I didn't take my medicine. Deep breath. Music. Breathe. 
    I keep going, despite what they say; all the negativity, all the persistence to keep me out of my comfort zone. Bones are sore. Too tired to think about it.
    I laugh. Because I can't remember where I started. All I have is this feeling. These feelings. I'm always left with them. I keep it alive. It's a part of me that I feed. 
    The drawings are so profound. I love looking at them. They make me happy, even if I don't think I've drawn as well as I could. They are definitions. They are moments in time. They are my memories and my dreams. I'll never let go of them. Hopefully, even if I forget, they'll always be important to me. 
    Can't shake the feeling that parts of me are missing. Where the holes have been filled there is a lingering sense of emptiness. That must just be a part of being human, or maybe it's just a part of being me. 

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Etsor
Every Moment Is New
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I'm here to learn, to experience and to share. I love art and I love who I am.
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:iconfibreciment:
fibreciment Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2014
thanks.
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:iconaceofstcanardkly:
AceOfStCanardKLy Featured By Owner Apr 22, 2014   Artist
:party::cake:
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:iconvickytico:
VickyTico Featured By Owner Oct 8, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fav ;)
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:iconfranzili:
Franzili Featured By Owner Jun 14, 2013  Hobbyist
thx for the fave :hug:
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:iconetsor:
Etsor Featured By Owner Jul 20, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
yer welcome :3
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:iconani--bee:
ANI--BEE Featured By Owner Jun 8, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks for the fav and comment ;) :love:
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:iconetsor:
Etsor Featured By Owner Jul 20, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
much worth it, thanks for the time to thank me~
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:iconmr0sen0:
Mr0Sen0 Featured By Owner May 3, 2013  Student General Artist
Thanks for the fav <3
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:iconetsor:
Etsor Featured By Owner May 6, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
you're welcome! lots of love
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:iconaceofstcanardkly:
AceOfStCanardKLy Featured By Owner Apr 22, 2013   Artist
Happy b.day!
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