I find myself standing in a dimly lit room.
Broken record spinning on a victrola in a cluttered room. “Fucking ha..” “.. dicho pasado…”
“Shoot your self in…” the needle jumps
“neva gonna …” it skips bouncing back and forth. I understood few random words but they were angry.
Gingerly I place my hand on the disk and stop it from spinning. I look around me. Stacks of disks and I know they all contain dark memories, the bad ones. Rejection, jealousy and shame they were all here. It felt familiar. Every time I’ve felt my body get hot and prickly, stomach in knots pretending and smiling through hurt. Those memories were all there.
The scene then shifts.
I’m standing in front of a door, my hand on the knob. But I don’t feel like going in. And the thought of not entering felt fascinating.