72

Sunday, June 3, 2012, 9:30PM

This is going to sound awfully abstract and sound like one of my old posts.
I got a text saying my friend wanted to skate.  I haven't seen him in days (it may as well be weeks in my perspective), so I thought I would surprise him by visiting.
I am replaying the wreck over and over.  A new daymare.  I thought I was done getting hit by cars.  Now I know why I get hit by cars, I think.
Here I am.  The left side of me red.  Skating down a huge hill.  Bailed.
Hydrogen peroxide.  Poured over and foamed inside me.  After poking at myself with a wet washcloth, this made me sick.
I was pretty far from home too.  I had to skate back.  Singing like I didn't care who heard.  Did you know I sing?  I'm terrible.  I bet the neighbors appreciated it.
I screamed my way up the hill, though.  The memory played over and over.  And again when I thought I could relax.
I popped three pills.  That's more than I've had in years.  I don't get hurt.  I don't get sick.  I'm making all sorts of realizations.
Evidently, he wasn't at his house anyway.  I texted my friend that I had just wrecked.  Laughing.
Two people heard me scream.  I assured them I was alright.  The old man gave me the strangest look.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine" I shouted.  I put my shoe back on to cover the bloody hole in my sock.
I didn't wash myself right away.  I was laughing a little.
Then I called my friend back.  I had just received a memory trigger and I am so used to doing things right away.  "When can you come to the party?"
You know what?  Daymares don't come from guilt alone.  Daymares come from something else.  Memories of pain to be vague.
I didn't think of my tulpa until now.  I had a small narration session today on a picnic table in a park I've never been to.  I was downwind of cigarette smoke, so my super-smell encouraged me to quit early.  The night is still young, so I can get some quality time with my pre-tulpa in.  I just thought I should type this all down before I forgot.  By the way, I have a ton of documents depicting memories of my life written in this write-what-you-can-remember-and-write-it-fast fashion.  I think I'll leave this moment in its raw form to stress the flow of my thought process.
I didn't wear a helmet or kneepads.  I protected my head by diverting all of the force to my hands until my arms could not hold.  Then I slid on my left side.  I'm no amateur at skating, after all.

I saw someone just a little younger than me walking, so I picked myself up and said hello.  Evidently, I had met him before and should know him, which confused him a bit.

Progress:  I have recently started narration, which seems easier than visualization, which at least has a good foundation.

http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/06/73.html