I sit here present, but I’m not. Physically, I am right beside you, but mentally, I am a thousand miles away. It’s hard to let go of the past, and even harder to know what exactly I should be holding onto. There’s too much baggage to drag around. It would weigh me down, making me heavier than you could hold. In turn, I will drag you down with me.

Trauma has a funny way of creeping up on you at the worst time. You think you’ve worked through the worst of it, accepting what has happened, learning to understand it to the best of your ability. You keep putting one foot in front of the other, making sure you don’t give up on the life you want to live. But it just bleeds in. It starts as a dream, making you uncomfortable in your own bed, threatening to cut you open all over again. You sit up the next morning, wondering how much of it was real because it felt so real. You go about your day, but that little bleeder in the back of your mind won’t die down. It leaks into your day, tainting everything in red, making you wish you had stayed asleep. Things that made you happy before are just mindless activities, something to fill the empty space that has been left inside you. You start to feel numb to it. It eats away at you slowly, making sure you suffer through every agonizing moment that you fought so hard to keep bottled away.

It's out now, so what are you going to do?