My Journey Through Purgatory: A Girl Named Rei

Ready. Set. Sail!

(Warning: frightening and gory imagery)

It’s cold and quiet. The thin mist that hangs over the cemetery like a wet silk sheet is enhanced by the neverending darkness surrounding me. I stand trapped in this shadowy cold cemetery. Hushed voices swirl around my head gently. Mocking me.

Not more than a few feet in front of me, she hangs. Staring directly at me. The ghost of the girl I once was. Translucent and thin. Black veins all over her body map the route where her blood once traveled. Her eyes are hollow. Crimson red blood drips softly like tears down her emaciated cheeks. She’s been crying for an eternity. And yet. She begins to smile.

That wide grin stretches across her face from temple to temple. An enormous, impossible grin that threatens to tear her face in half. As the blood climbs down her cheek it spills onto her thin black dress. Tattered and worn from so many years of abuse. It’s an overwhelming sight. After a few short moments I begin to hear her laughing. Rising from the depths of her madness erupts a cacophony of deafening shrieks so loud it rattles my bones. Shakes my beating heart.

She laughs to keep the pain away.

She laughs to keep the hurt at bay.

She laughs because she doesn’t know what else to do.

For some reason I’m not afraid. I’m just hurt to see her like this. I never realized how much pain she was in.

What can I do for her now? All I am is still and unmoved. Her pain is so far from me right now. I need to leave her to rest. Or else I’ll carry her with me for the rest of my life.

But what can I do now? Where can I go? Have I retraced my steps? The overwhelming anxiety and depression that has been cycling inside of me for the past week is slowly subsiding. My chest pains have been reduced to almost nothing. Slowly recovering, I’m starting to see the light peak through the horizon. But I’m afraid my compass lead me right back to the place I started. Nowhere near the entrance to the Firth and too far afield from the heavy smoke of the Fire, I am a great deal away from the extremities of this dark world of my mind. This emptiness. This lonely sadness. This “normalcy” that I know isn’t Stable.

Fucking pissed. This better not be that! No matter how hard I try to leave this place, I’m trapped. Trapped in my own Purgatory. Is this the cycle I’m doomed to wander through for the rest of my life?

The worst part is not that I feel alone. I feel abandoned. So I stay here hoping to muster up the courage to reach out to those who I know are still suffering. How can I be so useless?

She has stopped laughing.

Tears run down her cheeks again.

I sit and wait. That’s all I can do.



16 thoughts on “My Journey Through Purgatory: A Girl Named Rei

  1. Oh my goodness Jess, this one made me cry. While your Wellbutrin dose was upped, mine was lowered, and I lay in my bed, bawling, and not even knowing why. That’s the worst part. Not knowing why I feel the pain. It would be different if I could say it was because I’d had a bad breakup or had survived the loss of a child. But my life is good, but there I am sobbing. And now I read this and I sob. And don’t apologize for making me cry. Sometimes the tears just need to flow, and I should be grateful they aren’t tears of blood. Your writing is healing to those of us reading. I hope it gives you some sort of solace.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh Sandra. I don’t know what to say. I wish I was there to hold you. I am sorry for making you cry. This post represents a sort of detached feeling I have to myself. I tell people my writing brings me peace because I can express it. Kinda like an artist I suppose. You can feel the pain in people’s music or paintings and I imagine it’s as soothing to them as it is for me. It lets me release it. People who know me in real life will get the allegory of the girl named Rei. I’m getting better. Hope you are as well.


  2. Extremely emotive. Loved it – in my own weird way. Possibly due to seeing some commonalities. Mostly liked:
    “She laughs because she doesn’t know what else to do.”
    been there
    done that
    didn’t get no stinkin’ t-shirt

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m so glad you can relate to it. Sort of trying to separate my painful past from my present. People who know me in real life will know all the layers of the allegory.
      Laughing was my coping mechanism.
      And I’d rather not get a T-shirt to remind me of that😆


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