nothing beautiful

there’s nothing beautiful in trauma. nothing beautiful in surviving it. living past it. living through it. i have run screaming through flashbacks only to come crashing back to reality and have had to force myself to walk those same streets quietly as i am. i’d like to say my ptsd doesn’t own me nor control me… but there are times when i must admit it has consumed me. this is difficult especially for those around me who try to pick up signs that these times might be coming… but to be honest yeah i am quiet and sleepy but i’m also that insomniac rude loudmouth that you see too. that’s just me. the trauma is not. that’s what’s been done to me, what broke me. even though i am broken i will smile and keep on. yeah i’ve had a hard and difficult life. i don’t need to be told that or reminded. i know. but i take comfort in the fact that i am still alive… that i’ve persevered up to this point and will hopefully continue to do so.

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