“Bartholomew what you’re trying to explain to me just makes absolutely no sense anymore. I don’t know why I ever chose to believe your harsh, manipulative words all this time.”
Bartholomew is one of the many so-called voices that lived in my thoughts. He was my first true, imaginative best friend. I believe he’s lived in my thoughts physically and mentally since I was at least five years old. Probably before that as well.
Bartholomew was never kind to me and always reminded my confused brain what he believed my worth was.
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I never thought I would have the courage or the power to overcome any of my voices. Most are still lurking in the shadows. However, on this very day, this was the last moment I shared with my dear friend, Bartholomew. As of now anyway.
He was always the protector of Tim.
He was screaming at me with all his might. “Brit what do you mean? I am only trying to help you realize how important Tim is to you, and how much you hurt him.
You hurt everyone in your family. You should be punished for this behavior. Nobody loves you don’t you remember?”
Normally, I would argue with Bartholomew for hours upon hours about the horrific acts my father put upon me. I guess you could say I was trying to convince myself that I deserved to be forgiven. Until this day anyway.
This day I calmly closed my freckled, hazel eyes. I laughed and said, “ Are you done yet? Your words mean nothing to me. I faced him in court yesterday. I noticed those around me after I walked to the witness stand and told the judge my truth.
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And for once they listened. It just sucks that the Justice System haunts survivors like us, and those listening cannot snap their fingers with a life sentence.
Your words no longer have meaning over me. I have the power over you. Please just leave me alone.”
That was seriously just it. On this day anyway.
I kept waiting for the aftermath. The triggering moment that comes rushing in without warning. And to this day, almost a year later, Bartholomew’s appearance still hasn’t regained his power.
I know that he can always return. Especially in my weakest moments. But I’ve come to realize I need to just enjoy the present. Enjoy how I feel this exact moment. And embrace the nonexistent life of Bartholomew.
Because there might be a day he reappears, and I want to not regret enjoying life with one less voice living in my head.