Air Conditioning

I'm me. Who is that?

Trauma is a funny thing, it
Trips you over and
Tips you down and
Pours you out.

So much of who I was is gone,
Far past circling the drain,
Years ago it danced in the pipes of my foundations,
And now it swims through the ocean,
Lost to all except in memory.

I'm nowhere near who I was before, and theres a lot of reasons for that.

The moment I stopped being picture perfect,
Was the moment a lot of people stopped caring about me.

And I don't remember why.
Something must have happened,
Something big,
Something small, maybe,

But something shifted me at my core until it poured the rest of me out to fill the space it vacated.

So much changed so fast, I
Didn't want to be around anyone, I
Didn't see this world as something worth participating in, I
Stopped caring about myself, I
Never, ever stopped caring about everyone else.

I just pulled away from those that raised me, because very quickly, the me they raised was

Blood dripping down my face from my nose as a stared into a mirror, marveling at how

I didn't know who stood there anymore. Part of me still doesn't.

As a result, the me I am now is nowhere near who I was.

I raised myself, because the me I was dripped away from me, and they let me.

They left me to do it, gave up so easily on me.

And now I have not a drop of them within me.

Years later, learning this new me I was becoming, I met a boy.

He was hurt. More than me, even. We had something in common, the
Paintngs across our skin,
Evidence of the things haunting us, the
Last lives we lived slipping away.

He made me smile,
And laugh,
And I was happy.

I felt fluttering in my stomach and it was relieving to feel like the first time wouldn't be the only one,

Like maybe my wounded heart could love again despite the loss of my first love.

And then my second began.

And quickly turned sour and red.

The me I worked so hard to become after loosing the last was lost again,

rrrriped away,

Like it never mattered. It splashed out, painting those around me with an impression of me that was sweet and kind and oh-so-comforting, hiding the

Pain...

It hurt for so long.

And now I'm climbing out again, so near to adulthood trying to learn how to be me again, and

Smothered by the harsh realities of each day.

But I'm here.

You are too.