I remember that day so clearly— Well the morning of that day.

I was showering, the light dim, A song playing that takes me far into my past.

There was…  Something about that moment,—There was a feeling I became familiar with.

That moment was so…  Hauntingly beautiful,— Like blood on white roses. It was sickeningly perfect; it seemed wrong yet so right—


The feeling I had was dissociation. But it wasn’t the normal kind, not like the type I have now.

It felt like vape smoke deep in my lungs, filling my head, my mind. But it was dark, like smog. Hovering around me, filling me.

It twisted around my head, like a dark foreshadowing of the horrors soon to come.


I felt clueless…

Yet…

At peace.

It was almost like I was floating.

That morning was like peaceful dribbles of rain, before it strengthened and became a strong storm…

It certainly felt like there were soft droplets falling from a cloud within my head.

Like the dissociative fog became so strong it needed to rain.
How could I have known my soft droplets would turn to pounding rain, with booming thunder and flashing lightning?

How could I have known my heart could beat louder than that thunder?

How could I have known my heart would be that thunder?


But still—

Despite the dreadful day it became.

That feeling— That memory— That day—

Holds a special carved-out place deep within my soul.


A place created from the eye of the storm.

A place of peace, fear, unpredictability,


Yet,


familiarity.