I took off my shirt to take a bath, and as I looked at my body, a flood of memories surged forth; each one tied to the wounds and scars that marked my skin. Each wound and scar telling its own tale------ better described as the body inscribed with tales of pain. Yet the specifics of these stories elude me, as if they are all woven from the same dark thread. I turned on the shower; as the water cascaded over my face, it invigorated me; breathing life back into my weary spirit. But when the droplets met my fresh wounds, they stung sharply resurrecting the haunting memories of the accident that had occurred merely two weeks prior.
I can't quite explain what happens to me when I drive. It's not that I lack the ability; I can drive, yet each time I do, something inexplicable takes control, something strange; isolating me from the present, wrapping me in a harsh grip.
And when I'm finally conscious, I find myself either in a hospital room or on my own bed, surrounded by sterile sounds of beeping machines in the labyrinth of medical equipment, blood pressure monitors, and the constricting embrace of sphygmomanometer cuffs. My fingers are adorned with pulse oximeters, and I'm reminded of the wounds and abrasions in their shrouds, that are now my companions, along with the sling around my neck. Thankfully, this time, my arms remain intact. A relentless headache throbs in my temples, a familiar companion; in this unsettling cycle. It is ALWAYS the SAME. THE SAME SYMPTOMS. The SAME HAUNTING PRESENCE.
In my case, the specter that lingers is neither from the living nor the dead; but rather the most insidious of all -------- "MEMORIES".............
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