Dead. Dead, but breathing, to put it simply. I can feel myself deteriorating slowly from the inside. Emotionally, physically, mentally. I can feel it in my bones. At this point, I look into the mirror and I am terrified. Who the hell is that? Is that me?
Is it?
I suppose I look like any other person. I suppose.
My insides are all sick and rot. Like bondage on my organs, the PTSD gets a tighter hold on me every single day. I can’t quite process what happened in August. I know what happened, but it all feels like a fever dream. Do I really have the right […]