Broken

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Just like that my whole mood has been turned around. It’s like storm clouds have moved in with icy cold winds and pelting rain. What is it about you that sets my soul at unease? Maybe it’s nothing but maybe it’s something. Maybe it’s everything about you, maybe it’s nothing at all.

You set the damn fire burning in me, an anger so intense it makes my teeth feel numb, much the same as they do when I’m about to have an anxiety attack. How the hell do you do that every single time? My rational side keeps telling me it’s nothing, that it’s just the PTSD trying to make something out of it. Or maybe I’m right. I don’t know. I don’t have the strength. You make me weak.

I don’t want to think about it anymore but that’s not how my brain works. It’s turning and churning and whirling and spinning, all the while the rage is burning deep inside of me. Rage over nothing, the nothing that might be something but that is most likely nothing. I’ll spend the next week wondering if it was something or nothing, blowing the whole incident out of proportion. My mind is my prison and it wasn’t your fault. You only found me like this, you didn’t make me like this. But you can’t fix me either.

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One thought on “Broken

  1. You’re a really beautiful writer, I can really hear what you’re going through by reading your post. When you say your mind is like a prison, I can really relate to that. I don’t have PTSD but have anxiety and depression, and at times it just feels like your mind is your own worst enemy and is out to get you. Leaves you feeling powerless and helpless – don’t know whether you get that too?

    Like

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