Some days
the storm is inside me—
a scream that learned manners
a panic attack at the dinner table.

I sit still
pretending the world isn't moving
when really—
it's me
sloshing around inside my ribcage.

I learned that healing is not forgetting—
it's watching the sky go quiet
and not flinching or exploding.
It's trusting the calm
even when I am shaking.

Some days
I anchor myself to the smallest thing—
a cat wanting to be picked up
the smell of toast
the sound of my own breath
not rushing anywhere.

I know now—
it takes practice.
I am learning
to arrive
and so will you—
unforgettable you.