What shocks us is how often we are shocked by our trauma.
It's like watching a show you've seen millions of times and yet,
You gasp.
You jump.
A shiver works Its way up your spine.
Something about trauma is always new.
There's always something broken and gross.
Something rearing its horrible head.
It could be:
The way they said it
The way you felt
Was it pungent?
Who said it to you?
Were You anticipating it?
Like when you're wading in the ocean with friends and you stare at him, your feet no longer touch the bottom.
Your eyes look begging for his help.
The tide rises to your chin, he turns, dismissing as he would simply put it, bitter ex-girlfriend. You remember on television what they had said if you were caught in this circumstance. You make it to the shore, your back covered in sand, your mouth filled with dirty saltwater. You move onto your knees and crawl to steal your towel and kick some sand on his, you notice the others still splash in the water, not having noticed you exist.
You comprehend where you exist and rejoice it isn't in the lowest part of the ocean. Six miles down.
