Does it ever go away? Like. At all.
Because everytime I think it's better something will happen and it's just there.
Today it was an unexpected bus route, being a stones throw away from the house that it happened, the pub, the pavement I sat down on with my friend waiting for his Dad to pick us up. Something broken. Something changed. The world. People. Myself.
And it's all happening again. Thoughts. Images. Smells. Sound. The sound of his voice. Do you like that?
I hate it and I get so fucking angry. That after all the time it isn't any better. It isn't any easier. It hasn't gone away.
Is this how it is forever?
The memories so close to the surface. Places you can't go past without reliving it.
Being broken, all over again, in a matter of minutes.
I have a new therapy assesment in a couple of weeks. I had every intention of going in there and spilling my guts. But now...
What's the point?
If I can't forget. If I can't somehow change the situation.
Then what good does crying about it with some stranger ever hope to achieve.
Tonight. I know I won't sleep. I won't let myself turn out the light.
And no matter how much I try and lose myself in a book. Or think about all the plans I have for the future.
Nothing will change how fucking scared and broken I feel right now.