All at once,
You ripped my heart out,
And threw it like a large stone
Skips across a lake,
Creating ripples in my calm waters.
I disappeared beneath the surface,
And you walked away from the shoreline,
And grabbed a different stone.

No one knows the horrible thoughts within my head,
I grow tired of faking normal.
I look into the mirror and hate who is staring back.

The daymares are worse than the nightmares because they come without warning.
It is hard to fake normal when the daymares come and tears stream and the shaking begins.
I run for a place to close a door and lock it.
Lock out the world and grab my hair and pull and pull so hard that I try to pull the scenes out of my head.

I see them over and over every day. I hear the sounds. I lose my breath when the triggers come.
I tell my doctor that I am tired of faking normal.
I ask for medicine that will make me feel numb.

He asks me, "When was the last time you were happy?"
I pause, I think. I don't  remember.
My family doesn't understand so I have to fake normal.
I tell him I don't know how much longer I can hold on. Do something.
He says. I want you to seek counseling.
NO. It doesn't work.
Please.
NO. Just give me something so I won't think anymore.

I know that this PTSD is winning. Faking normal is coming to an end.
My doctor looks at me for the first time with the saddest eyes and says, "I'm worried about you."
I think to myself, You should be.

Your hands were intertwined in mine.
Those days, your hair was messy, and as hard as I tried to comb through it, you managed to mess it up every time.
Those days, your skin was warm like the summer air, and with each night you wrapped me in your arms, I didn't know I was struggling to break free.
Those days are long since gone.

Your hands were letting go.
Those days, our lives were messier than your hair ever was, and we tried to clean up our acts to no avail.
Those days, your skin grew cold and took the texture of a snakes. With each night you wrapped her in your arms, even you knew it should have been me.
Those days are long since gone.

Your hands are lost in your messy hair now, your hands hold none but your own.
They don't reach for me anymore, there's no sign of the hands mine used to know.

there will always be someone
prettier,
smarter,
nicer,
happier,
better,
than you.
and I don't yet know
how to accept that.