I don't even know where to begin with this one - nothing could have prepared me for you.
Nothing.
I KNOW mental health issues are real, but if stigmas are the rain-clouds baby you are a hurricane.
No, more like a tornado, I finally understand why you can only get a few minutes warning to take cover.
No one can predict the sudden build of pressure. It's palpable. Raises every hair on my back it is animal fear, all wide eyes, lizard brain and heartbeats.
You lash out with the coordination of a drunk at the bottom of a bottle, sparing no one in the crossfires
But as fast as it begins, it is over, and I am left shaking teary-eyed in the rubble and ruin wondering if that natural disaster was actually real.
I look around and I can't figure out if I'm Dorothy or the witch beneath the house. And can a twister even hold remorse?
I close my eyes and click my heels three times, wishing I was anywhere but here.