I am holding onto so much fear.
My memories are jarred and jarring. But not complete. They are fossils. Broken, fragmented, rough-edged fossils.
I am back in fight or flight. My throat feels tingly. I want to fly very far away. I am positive I will die some minutes. And then my brain stops playing the broken record and I wonder what the fuck? Am I safe right now? Of course I am! Why does it feel like someone punched me in the chest? I can’t feel the ground. Or my body. Until someone calls my name or touches me and I don’t know what else to write except I’m back to wanting to be constantly wrapped in a hug. And sometimes I cry when I want that too badly and sometimes I plan my death when I want it profoundly.