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by Heather Friesen

The hallway of my mind has so many doors that I keep locked. Locked tight so I don’t have to remember the horrors that live within the walls.

Those horrors are like ghosts though. Ghosts that can escape through the smallest of holes. Even a keyhole.

Those ghosts come find in the darkest of nights. In the brightest of days. I can’t escape them. They float through my mind waiting for me to find peace and then they are there. I try so hard to ignore them, but they take over and then I’m reliving the horror within that room. The locks don’t protect me. The locks are nothing against my memories.

The first few rooms are bearable. I can handle those ghosts. I’m used to them. They almost feel like friends by now.

They come to me and I sit with them. We chat and talk about old times. Then I send them on their way. I’m good at dealing with them. As I go a little further, I stumble and lose my way temporarily.

It is dark, but I find a light and make my way. Those ghosts are harder to handle. They feel more out to get me, but eventually, if I sit long enough and can steady myself I make it through. They always let me know they came to me. They always leave a mark.

The ghosts I can’t handle, the ghosts who still win, live beyond the rooms with light. I can’t find light there yet. I can’t bring myself to even light a candle to see them. What if they destroy me?  What if they’re me?

Because isn’t that my biggest fear after all. That the ghosts I can’t fight, the ghosts who will win are actually me. They can stay in the darkness for a little while longer. They stay in locked away, I’m hoping they don’t slip through the keyhole to find me. I’m not ready for that battle. I don’t think I will win yet.

I’m strong. I’m a fighter. I’m a survivor. Can I survivor myself?

Heather