“It’s OK, don’t cry”

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Name Withheld

I don’t like bedtime. When I spend the night here, I want to stay up visiting with Anna, but our before bed root beer makes us too sleepy. I’d rather not drink it right now but we have to, and I really like root beer. Mom would NEVER let me drink soda before bed at home! See, I knew it wouldn’t keep me up all night. It never does. I get to spend almost every weekend here, so I don’t complain that I can’t have soda before bed at home. I just hate the dreams here. They are starting to get scary.

Why am I dreaming about being touched? I see floating Strawberry Shortcakes and they are watching me. I ask them for help stopping the dream and they tell me they don’t talk to gross girls. I can’t move my arms. I feel gross and I can’t move, only feel. Everything is blurry and dizzy. I might throw up, so I start to cry. The man in my dreams says it’s okay, don’t cry, just go back to sleep. “Shhhh….It’s just a dream.”

It’s late. My head hurts. Something else hurts. I go to the bathroom to try to figure out why. I’m bleeding. How did I get hurt while I was sleeping? What did I do? I didn’t even have any dreams tonight, but even when I do, it’s not like this. I’m scared, but Anna comes in to see what I’m doing, so I tell her.

“Oh, that happens to me sometimes. It just hurts for a couple of days. If you take a bath it feels better.” She’s right, and I’m glad we didn’t wake her parents. I’ll have to remember this. I’m glad she was here, it was less scary. And I’m glad it isn’t just me.

I haven’t had any new dreams for a long time, just the same ones with floating Strawberry Shortcake and someone touching me. I wish he’d stop touching me. Every time I feel sicker and sicker, even if it is only a dream. I hate that he takes my pictures. How gross does he think I am? I don’t want my picture taken like this, but I can’t stop him because my arms are too heavy. I wish he would get sick and die.

Stupid-ugly-nasty-man in my stupid-ugly-nasty dreams making me stupid-ugly-nasty-girl. I hate him! If I could see his face I could kick him, I just know it. I’d kick him right in his mouth and knock out his ugly teeth. Well, after I wake up, because in my sleep I don’t have legs. Strawberry Shortcake sits on them and they disappear. I really don’t like her. Stupid girl in a stupid pink shirt hat who won’t help me. I’m glad they are only dreams. I’m glad stupid-ugly-nasty man reminds me it’s just a dream.

I miss Anna. I don’t really like to eat anymore. Eating makes me sick. Besides, I’m so gross, I should just die. I wish my Daddy was here, he’d make the dreams and the floating stop. He’d come back to me and take away the dreams. If I can stop eating the food that is making me so stupid-ugly-nasty, he will save me.

If I could just get all my blood out and get some new blood he could love me again. But the stupid food just keeps putting the stupid-ugly-nasty right back inside me. How am I supposed to get all my blood out? If the gross goes away with my blood, I think the dreams will go too. They have to. I know they live in my blood. Mom says the dreams aren’t real. I’m glad.

Sometimes I lie in bed and pretend I can’t move my arms or legs again, and I pretend I’m dying while I fall asleep. I don’t cry anymore. It only makes me sick to cry, so I just lay there quietly, hardly breathing. “Light as a feather, stiff as a board…”

I’m in the hospital again. Damned doctors are always whispering to my mother. They tell her malnutrition and severe dehydration. She tells them I am doing it for attention and not to say anything. “It would feed her obsession.” Why does she think I am always trying to get attention?

I just want to be left alone. I just want to shrink down and disappear. I want the dreams to stop. I want to go back to when I was sure they were only dreams. When will I loose enough to get this monster out of me? Maybe there isn’t enough and I am going to have to die first. I can’t lose enough blood. Damned blood…


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