ptsd
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; The storm after the storm.
The Hole
I was there against my will, and I knew it was the place that I needed to be. See, I asked for help and protection from myself. I didn't trust myself anymore because I had a plan, a workable plan, and I intended to put that plan into motion three days ago. My plan consisted of a wooded area, a hose, a car exhaust and a sunny final day of my life.
By Rachael Merrick8 years ago in Psyche
Riptide
Escapism is a beautiful place for a while, it feels almost painless. It feels okay because you can breathe without that pounding in your chest, or that hole in your stomach that looks like the milky way but feels more like a tornado. It speaks so softly I can’t hear the words, but I feel the doubt of everything. I wake up in the morning and I feel it, until I can find a way to ignore it. No matter how I try it’s always there, like that sound of chalk on a chalkboard; only I am the chalkboard. I try to think of or create beautiful places in hopes that someone might understand, perhaps someone will find peace knowing that someone feels the same way. But my escapism is a dream with a beautiful beginning that ends in a nightmare. People wonder how that feels, that is people who have never been there. The only way that I can describe it, is like this
By Jordan Sophia Thomas8 years ago in Psyche
