I still remember those days… no tears, no palpable sadness…
It wasn't ordinary pain that could be described or located…
It was something inside me slowly eroding, as if I were melting away from the inside without anyone noticing.
Every day that passed, I felt a part of me disappear…
I moved, I spoke, I smiled sometimes… but it was all like an empty show, a soulless performance.
Inside, everything was at a standstill.
My mind wasn't functioning logically.
Thoughts jumbled, shattered, returned to the same point…
That moment, that hand, that silence that followed the end. I tried to explain, to find meaning, a reason, anything to lighten this burden…
But every path led to the same emptiness.
And my heart… it wasn't mine to control.
It was heavy, slow, as if it refused to continue but was forced to. Every beat reminded me that I was still here…
Even though a part of me was gone.
I couldn't cry; it was as if tears themselves had lost their way to me.
I didn't scream, I didn't break down like other people do…
I remained trapped in a strange state, between feeling and nothingness, between pain and numbness.
And I… was living with it.
The head nurse would give me days off because she knew about my mood swings, and since I wasn't making any mistakes, she couldn't dismiss me.
I became distant from my colleagues, even though I knew they weren't to blame for what was happening in my mind. It was so painful, though, that I stopped caring.
The hospital prescribed me psychiatric medication because the symptoms of trauma were evident, but it was ineffective. I was good at hiding my feelings, and the doctor was bad at getting me to express them. So, in his report, he said I could work without any problems.
A year passed since the incident, I think, and I didn't make any new friends, only my college girlfriend with whom I lived.
I didn't have a boyfriend, and I didn't get promoted no matter how hard I worked.
I was a nuisance to the doctors because I always put the patients first. So, it was a stagnant year, but I think I could say I did a good job that year.
The new year began with the introduction of the interns who would be working in my department. Some of them were weak, but charismatic. Clear and polite, and there was no blood on him this time.
With a gentle bow, he introduced himself and said his name was Michael.