PTSD
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The day I turned 18, I woke up early, packed my belongings into the trunk of my maroon 1996 Ford Escort and drove out of town. I willed myself not to look in the rearview mirror as I left my childhood home and drove into my future. I’d like to say no one handed me…
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I’m trying to pick up pieces I didn’t know had broken away. Pieces that fell around me every time my heart broke. Pieces that I didn’t even know existed every time life disappointed me. Running through my hands and pouring out of my eyes. Things I’m losing over and over again and can’t even remember…