11/18/24
There it is and there you are.
and here I am.
It’s going to stay that way.
It can start with a smell,
or color, or taste, or word or anything.
Then, it’s “Why does my arm hurt?”
Why am I crying?
Why am I angry?
Why can’t I separate then from now, and here from there?
Why can’t I escape this crawling, gnawing feeling?
Want to pull my face through my nose, rip my heart out, cave my head in.
Then, my head takes me someplace else, someplace safe.
Sometimes this has kept me safe.
But mostly this has kept me alone.
Sometimes, I remember how to breathe.
Other times, I don’t feel real.
-Aric B.
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