We have incentive to collect our fears, replace them with hope in the incoming years. But we tie them off and leave them alone; stash them away in the deepest parts of our bones. Stamp them in blood, or tears we forgot, switch off the trauma and train of our thoughts. The tracks mail letters, to the backs of our minds; a land unknown from the depth of our blinds. I promise you, this ill way of thinking, doesn't solve the problem, nor help it sink in. Someone will find them, somehow deny them, for the points you could've made; and the pain you couldn't take-
I feel like pain, or trauma gets invalidated when we don't speak up about it immediately. I also feel like it also gets invalidated if people don't get it; I feel like i tend to hide my pain in fear of laughter. All feedback is welcome and appreciated.