I don’t actually know what you think of me
if you think I’m perfect, or got all my shit together, in a neat zip locked bag…
You don’t see me curled up in a fetal position
after having my life dragged up, and being re-traumatised…it’s got nothing to do with the actual assessment I was meant to be doing…
You don’t see me trying to calm an inner child
she’s black and blue and limp, I can’t feel calmness
I can’t console her, she is me & while I’m numb and dissociated from myself…
I can’t feel anything but panic, internal
Like I’m sitting beside myself, cradling myself but it’s just an illusion…she was forgiven long ago, I forgave me (or so I thought)
and every time I close my eyes
I see everything all over again
I feel the darkness consuming me
the tv is on the fritz again and the images are black and white static, it’s as if I’m slipping in and out of consciousness…as if I was reliving it all…
It’s frightening having awareness that you’re outside yourself, split and fractured…
feeling at odds within myself but knowing this is temporary and I’m ok, just overwhelmed…
I identify shame, shame that I thought I was beyond this
Shame, I couldn’t get all the words out…
Shame, I let me down again (I feel like I’m a failure, like I can fix others, but not me…& yet I’m not broken, I know this)
I know this
freeflowpoet
