Expose The Tard Exposing the truth from as far back as 1993.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

It was like when I was fourteen all over again

Amazing, isn't it? This meek Nicky differs from the strong ass kicker in An Eye In Shadows. But you already knew that was fiction. And available for free.

Since I was a teen, I can remember a long time phobia that I had and that would be the phobia of being locked in enclosed places for long periods of time, namely when I was younger it was in a gym locker. I cannot begin to describe the things within my mind as I would be locked inside, thinking that I was closed alive in a coffin or would be buried alive. I could handle dealing with rats and snakes, grew fond of rats but being locked into a trunk of a car or a locker, I would grow extremely frightened by the though of hearing about another getting locked in one. I nearly kicked the car trunk open when someone locked me in as a practical joke, but what triggered the nightmares is when I was carried off in an ambulance last year in February after a very horrific assault that I had gone through.

It was the incident when they were binding me into a back stretcher and started covering me with blankets because I was going into shock, and in the disorientation my phobia began to hit me quite hard when I was being placed in the blue and orange sleeping bag type device. I could feel them strapping down my legs and my stomach, then they placed a breathing device on my nose – this is something that would not leave me as I am writing this. I can still see this in my sleep, the picture of myself laying on the floor covered in blood – bared chest because I felt the blood hitting the back of my shirts. I could only see myself looking up at the people looking back down on me when they where trying to stop my bleeding. I was responsive to them, but their speech was incoherent because I was in and out of consciousness.

I could not feel a single thing as they were binding my head with the cotton bandages, it was as I would become embalmed – the feeling of them placing the pressure on the back of my head. The combination of the loss of blood, and the cold winter air upon my naked arms left a chill to me – that of one that I could not describe in my waking hours.

The thoughts that would remain in my mind would be that of a clausal phobic horror that would remain in my mind as I would fall asleep. Dreams that would remain within a psychological darkness that would sit within the pits of emptiness. As one would begin to dream, I would see myself bound in a sack swinging back and forth hearing that youth pastor saying that if I did go to church I would not be laying in three pools of my own blood. It was this that had left more of a horror in my mind more than the assault itself, because the religious persecution that would follow because of the newspaper clippings in The Globe Gazette.

I could not come to terms with the reasons for the assault, but as I had been in the hospital for my nervous breakdown, I had nightmares from that night of the assault – it is as a horror film playing over and over in my head. I write this narrative from the memory of the nightmares, and from the time in the mental health unit at Mercy Hospital. One cannot begin to relate the thoughts within the mind of one with the phobia that one has when they are locked into a trunk for a few hours, the small minutes, locked inside appear as hours. Time becomes one’s tomb.

Locked – loneliness and darkness are only company when one is locked inside of a place as a car trunk. Paranoia, leading into a horror that cannot begin to even describe or to conceive, but when I was kick trunk it was beating and racing as my heart was pounding in my throat. The thoughts within my mind were that of one preaching about my thinking, saying that this is how hell would be – locked, as a prison that one will never awaken from.

Though this is something that sat in my mind and had believed, but this is something that would not remain alive in me because of the nightmares when I had slept in the hospital room. This horror is one that crawls within the mind over time, hoping that one would not allow it to surface – only to take something as nearly bleeding to death and bound into the stretcher taking me into an ambulance, though that I was able to respond physically to the Emergency Medical Technicians – mentally I was not there, half numb to the world and half vegetable emotionally. It could have been the shock from the loss of blood or the horror that was creeping in, but when I was in the blankets and the sleeping bag type device, I was shaking and pale. My friend Trent, who worked as a security guard was able to imagine the horror that came when the details appeared in the paper the morning after the assault – it was that of denial, one that cannot be happening in a smaller city.

Mind over mind, horror into horror, such thoughts that were in my mind when I rested were as such as I am writing into this narrative. I would still have the nightmare, and the thoughts that would still remain – that of me lying on the floor and the female cop applying pressure to the back of my head telling me not to get up, at the time I was not sobbing but after it is all said and when the charges came. I would have dreams about them stalking me and forcing the thought of dropping the charges – their niceness was chilling because the intent was evil in the sense that they had already the physical damage, now they are trying to be nice and stalk me around saying they want to be my friend. This would be more frightening than the assault itself -- it was horrifying enough to make me bleed half of my vital fluids, and now they were trying to damage me emotionally.

It was like when I was fourteen all over again, emotionally distressed, thinking why they had to keep stalking me, haunting me – emotionally as the meek teenager that would walk in the faceless hallways. Everyone would ignore him unless they were going to entomb him in a locker that was able to fit the son of a bitch into. It was that dark imagery that would haunt me in my memories when I would be walking into the vacant locker room at a wrestling meet – then out of nowhere, I am thrown into a locker and door slams shut. That door slamming and locking behind me – the thought of that impends horror as a coffin that is closing upon me. Mind over mind – thoughts within the nightmares impending a horror that is unimaginable. Horror over horror – a sleep within the mind that sees the persecution that is within the society that one had been shunned. That as one is inside, alone, locked – time means nothing when locked alone in darkness. The closing thoughts that are within the mind and the sleep are the nightmares that lead to the emptiness – which appears as one is already dead inside.

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

If thats not 'Nick the Boxer' I don't know who is. Nicky displays great manliness.

- Velmonturna

Chaos-Wraith-X said...

Oh my sweet Jesus Christ.

Nickolaus Pacione said...

You're a piece of shit for stealing my work and pictures. I hope someone shoots you right between the eyes with a well placed shot with a double barrel shotgun.

cussedness said...

Where did you find this? It's astonishing.

Phil Smith said...

One doesn't put 'well placed shots' 'right between the eyes' with a shotgun, Nickypoo. Yer basic shotgun cartridge contains many lead pellets: the actual 'shot' to which the name refers. The result is a wide spread, intended to inflict certain damage rather than any degree of precision. If you want a 'well placed shot' you use a rifled slug.

Just for your information.

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