A technicolor thriller movie hits me up the head.
It comes sneaking around the bright corners of my mind.
It breaks through the firewalls of pleasant memories.
It melts my thoughts into mush.
I give in.
My heads drop to my side and my nails begin to dig in to my palm.
Immediately I started toying with the dead skin on my bottom lip.
The winter has been cruel to my skin.
Each rip of dead skin feels cathartic.
I am peeling away my pain and discomfort.
My Flashbavk looms over until I am completely defenseless.
Which is one or hits.
I feel I am on a shaky old roller coaster that have up.
The ride attendee has side bye.
The silence is deafening.
My breath catches in my ears.
I wake up on the floor of the cold, wood floor of the living room.
I have no recollection of what happened.
I feel deattached and removed like a minor character in a big movie.
The star has just gotten hit by a track and the perky comic relief friend turns serious.
That is my flashbacks.
I am not as scared as before but I don't trust him.
I worry he'll come when my defenses are even more eroden.
I whisper the duas I learned in Sunday school to ward the ailments of my conditions.
I tell myself it's a just a test.
I put my headphones back in and resume listening to stromae, letting the tears take control.
It's all that I have known.
