My skin feels foreign to me again. If I could uncloak myself from the suit I wear, I would. I would step outside of this tainted body that has betrayed me.
Today is the last day, The blinds will be closed. The coffee runs sour. The twitch in my eye.
And maybe the sometimes stagnant part of my life right now just is begging for the destructive drama that my first relationship imprinted on me. Life is perfect now so let's destroy, says the drunken witch of PTSD... the inner demon HE had left behind.
I've got a secret. A secret addiction that I hide from everyone, including myself. A morbid curiousity of sadness that makes me unable to exist in the happiness I am surrounded by.
You are my mom. But somewhere along the line I became the nurturer. The unconditional love between us has allowed us to ignore our identities as people and to just fall into these roles that are locked in the guilt and hurt that strikes me at the core.... over and over and over again.
It took me months to find out I was in the midst of the worst depression and anxiety attack that I had ever been in; it took me weeks to reach out for help; and then it took me months to thankfully climb back out.
I've moved around so much that I'm just fragments of stages of my life. To me, they create a kaleidoscope of experience and depth but to others, they can only see that me that is present.