I have to talk about something that in my mind makes me sound like a terrible person. Thinking about it makes me feel like a terrible person. It's still bothering me though, so I think if I write about it, that might help. -Even if the people reading might also think I'm a horrible person.
I've been having trouble blogging lately, and I think it's because I wanted to write about this, but I wasn't sure how.
Last Saturday, after getting home from helping my parents move (while slightly hungover), C and I headed to bed and both fell asleep quickly.
I woke up sometime later, to a girl yelling. I think she was on 8th Street (the busy street one street away from mine). She yelled one thing, "Somebody help me." She proceeded to cry. Loudly. I listened and could tell nobody was with her. There was no other voices, just her loud and frustrated cries. I could hear her footprints walking along the sidewalk. I could also hear cars driving by (on 8th).
What did I do? Nothing. I did nothing, and I've felt guilty about it since it happened.
I was half asleep, but I don't think that's an excuse. I rolled over and looked at the time on my phone. It was around 2:30 in the morning. In my head, I convinced myself that somebody else would help her because she was on 8th Street. I convinced myself that she wasn't in any danger because she was alone. I didn't know any of this. I thought maybe she was lost/or didn't have a phone when the bars closed, and was drunk and frustrated. Once again, I didn't know.
I contemplated what to do. I thought I should wake Clint up to go help, or go out myself and help. I thought about calling the cops so they could look into it. Looking back, I should have done the latter. I didn't though. I stayed awake and worried about her. I tried to make my mind up, and eventually could no longer hear her footsteps or her cries. (I heard her steps longer than I heard her cries).
I must have fallen back to sleep because I thought I talked to C about it, but in the morning, he told me I didn't talk to him. Half asleep dreaming, I guess.
I should have woken him up right away because the fact that he was with me should have been a comfort. Instead, I felt frozen. I didn't know what to do, but lay there and worry and stress out.
I checked the police report/online paper the next day, and saw nothing, which made me feel a little bit better. The police has a website that maps crimes.
Somebody pointed out that I could have dreamed the whole thing. That could be true. I don't think it is, but if it is - what does that say about my subconscious? I've been feeling very guilty about it, and as much as I don't like to admit it, I've been feeling a little scared of the area I live. (It's not a bad area, but it is a busy area). So, if it was a dream, it certainly did it's job in feeling like a nightmare.
I've been a bit more stressed out than usual (I'm a stressed out person to begin with) since C has been gone this time around. I'm not sure what it was about that night, or what is going on in my head, but it is something I need to deal with.
What's the point of this post? I'm not really sure. I guess everybody gets reminders that they can be better. This was my reminder. I can be better. I regret not calling the police, or not waking Clint up. I can't change it now, but I can write about it, and hope that if the situation arises again, I will do something. (And hope the situation doesn't happen again).
8th Street at Sunset.
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