Like so many others who live with PTSD or other chronic illness, people often ask me, “What does it feel like?”
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 real or echoes from pain long ago that
Resurface with a memory?
It’s like being held hostage by your mind
Thinking that today would be the day I am free.
I look like everyone else
I know the difference between right and wrong.
Yet in my head, I sometimes 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 or…
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