Deliverance [h.s.]

thirty-one | brown eyed girl

With you, my brown eyed girl

You my brown eyed girl

Brown Eyed Girl || Van Morrison

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Exhaustion.

It's one of the few things I feel like no one talks about after you open up about your trauma.

Your body experiences a rush of emotions, adrenaline coursing through your veins; you feel ambivalent until you feel nothing at all.

My body felt like it had been to hell and back, my mind an empty shell of nothingness. I wanted to close my eyes and open them back up years from now in hopes that this feeling would leave me but it never will; it is etched into my embodiment, painted into my personification, ingrained into my essence.

It's different from regular exhaustion, it doesn't feel the same as running a mile and being winded afterwards. It feels like your'e back in those moments, clinging onto any hope that one day you'll climb out and never go back; but you do go back because you can't heal without reliving.

It feels impossible to move forward in life when you're shackled to horrors of your past, most of which can't even be spoken out loud.

There's a feeling of being free when you finally say the words out loud but its swiftly followed by the sound of chains clinking behind you, reminding you that you'll never truly be free.

I think that's the most tiring part, wanting to forget so bad but knowing you never will. It feels isolating in your mind, like no one will ever understand the complexity that is you.

That's not true though.

The truth is most of us are lugging around some sort of baggage, big or small, it's still a weight we're all forced to carry.

I just wish someone would talk about the reality of it all.

We don't all cope the same, we don't all feel the same but one thing i know is we all feel the exhaustion.

Which is why the sound of Harry's quiet engine revving as we pull from the isolated beach parking lot is music to my ears right now.

After shutting my door, he walked to his side of the car; sliding in and starting the engine before pulling away.

I didn't know how today was going to go, fuck, i didn't even know this beach existed before today but now it holds more meaning in my heart than i ever thought was possible.

Honestly, I'm scared.

I'm scared of Harry; not because of who he is, but because of how he makes me feel. I'm scared to attach myself to him, admit to myself the truth of how I really feel. I'll put it off for as long as i can but it's becoming increasingly undeniable; but for now i'll let fear win.

Harry's rolled down window let in the familiar smell of sea salt and a comforting ocean breeze. My chest burned knowing why Harry does things the way he does. I'm sure part of his intentions yesterday were malicious, knowing he could push my buttons, but mostly; he's coping in the only ways he knows how.

It's not my job to 'fix' him, I would never want to. That's something he has to do on his own; but I can hand him the glue he needs as he puts the piece of his broken soul back together.

The car turned onto the busy road, making our way back home to work on my motorcycle like Harry had mentioned. I had already planned on working on it today but now I have Harry to hold me accountable.