Ah, Trauma. How nice.
The lights are too bright,
My eyes hurt.
I’m too tired,
My eyelids are heavy.
Everything around me is too much,
And yet,
There is silence.
Silence,
And me.
I’m too tired to sleep,
Too hungry to eat,
Too scared to calm down.
It’s coming back.
Those dark feelings.
Only,
This time they aren’t thoughts that creep into my head and fill my insecurities to the brim with their whispers.
No,
They are more carnal.
An inherent fear as I continue to live.
A feeling of dread coming from somewhere so deep,
So dark,
So terrifying.
Down underneath the worded thoughts and feelings,
Engrained in the very way I live,
Breathe,
Function.
Inside every action I take,
Every step I make,
I can feel it.
Its cold, searing, breath.
There is nothing it warns me of,
No made-up problems blown out of proportion.
Just the dread.
The fear of losing something.
The overwhelming drain of living in fear of losing.
The fear of getting close.
Close enough to touch,
Close enough to feel,
The weight of responsibility for another,
The pressure of constantly monitoring oneself,
Molding the personality to fit a favorable shape.
I said it’s coming back,
But,
It never left.
Not truly.
It has always remained.
I was just scared,
Hiding from it,
Underneath practiced smiles and rehearsed gestures.
Premeditated reactions and calculated laughs.
Thinking,
I’m happy now,
I have so many friends.
How could it possibly still be there?
But it creeps up,
Whenever it becomes too much,
Ready to remind me that it’s there.
