It doesn’t matter if it is cold, hot, sunny, snowing or raining.
There is no telling when it is going to strike.
Are they alive or dead?
Is that pain real or echoes from pain long ago that resurface with a memory?
It’s like being held hostage by your mind
Thinking today would be the day I am free.
I look like everyone else.
I know the difference between right and wrong.
Yet sometimes in my head, I 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 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 all the skeleton hand 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 is all I can ask of myself if I am going to have a future.
image source: google images
Thank you for reading my memoir, Untangled, A Story of Resilience, Courage, and Triumph