It doesn’t matter if it’s cold, hot sunny, snowing or raining.
There is no telling when it’s going to strike.
Are they alive or dead?
Is that pain echoes from the pain long ago that resurfaces with memory?
It’s like being held hostage by your mind
Thinking that today will be the day I am free.
I look like everyone else.
I know the difference between right and wrong.
Yet in my head I often can’t remember
the last ten minutes of my life, or what day, year or time it is.
Are those smells real or is that a smell from a place and time when I
Was being held hostage against my will?
Am I really hearing the sounds of helicopters, planes, cicadas and birds?
Or is that the sound coming from a place that no longer exists
and should never be talked about?
I want so much to be like everyone else.
So I will keep pulling myself up the rope
Out of the clutches of PTSD
and the skeleton hands of the past that keep trying to pull me down.
I am like everyone else
only my job is to live, so I can live.
That’s all I can ask of myself some days if I’m going to have a future.
Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph