Aug 2016
Yesterday my sister and I lay on the bed,
while I read to her my diary entries from 2010.
We laughed about my desperate bouts of affection for my crush that year,
the time I broke my right wrist, outdated song references and how everyday started with "Today is the worst."
Sitting with my friend and her brother, he asks me "Isn't PTSD the thing that happens to soldiers on war?" I nod to him and say,
"Yes but I am the soldier who cannot come home from my war, can only come home to it."
I don't like the taste of my tea that I spent fifteen minutes making,
but I am going to at least drink half of it.
Every time I hear a love song, it reminds me of my caretaker; She is the only one I truly loved.
For years after I shifted to the city she kept calling me, some answered, some left ringing next to my pillow.
She doesn't call anymore and I can't help but obsess over it.
I haven't been to the beach in a longtime and I feel like I am forgetting how it looks, or sounds.
I don't like that.
Early in 2016, my therapist tells my sister to hide all pills, toxic material and knives away from me.
A week after hiding everything, she forgets.
I have tried to start taking my medication several times but I always discontinue it,
my therapist thinks my attachment issues with people is showing up with the pills too.
I think I have two favorite colors; a fading green and light blue.
I remember I always wore black clothes when I was in school.
My father once screamed at me at the movie theater for wearing black again. I wonder why he did not say anything in the car.
The night after I overdosed on Lorazepam pills washed down with old coke, I cried in the morning because I was still here.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, is the name of a song that I really relate to;
A song I have heard enough to hate, but cannot find the stop-button to.
Making constant eye contact makes my cheeks and ears, very warm.
Most of my nightmares are about my father or my caretaker, both are not nice to me in my dreams.
I have a hard time remembering roads, conversations or what month or year it is.
Today I read my diary entry from two days ago.
"Today is the worst." it said.
Funny.
while I read to her my diary entries from 2010.
We laughed about my desperate bouts of affection for my crush that year,
the time I broke my right wrist, outdated song references and how everyday started with "Today is the worst."
Sitting with my friend and her brother, he asks me "Isn't PTSD the thing that happens to soldiers on war?" I nod to him and say,
"Yes but I am the soldier who cannot come home from my war, can only come home to it."
I don't like the taste of my tea that I spent fifteen minutes making,
but I am going to at least drink half of it.
Every time I hear a love song, it reminds me of my caretaker; She is the only one I truly loved.
For years after I shifted to the city she kept calling me, some answered, some left ringing next to my pillow.
She doesn't call anymore and I can't help but obsess over it.
I haven't been to the beach in a longtime and I feel like I am forgetting how it looks, or sounds.
I don't like that.
Early in 2016, my therapist tells my sister to hide all pills, toxic material and knives away from me.
A week after hiding everything, she forgets.
I have tried to start taking my medication several times but I always discontinue it,
my therapist thinks my attachment issues with people is showing up with the pills too.
I think I have two favorite colors; a fading green and light blue.
I remember I always wore black clothes when I was in school.
My father once screamed at me at the movie theater for wearing black again. I wonder why he did not say anything in the car.
The night after I overdosed on Lorazepam pills washed down with old coke, I cried in the morning because I was still here.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, is the name of a song that I really relate to;
A song I have heard enough to hate, but cannot find the stop-button to.
Making constant eye contact makes my cheeks and ears, very warm.
Most of my nightmares are about my father or my caretaker, both are not nice to me in my dreams.
I have a hard time remembering roads, conversations or what month or year it is.
Today I read my diary entry from two days ago.
"Today is the worst." it said.
Funny.
