I learned stigma before I knew acceptance.
Having PTSD was for veterans after all,
something I certainly was not.
How could I possibly be waging wars with my own mind.
Your ideologies of love made my skin crawl, and my chest feel uneasy.
And at this time feeling without happiness made you nothing near sane.
I was fleeing from this scene unfolding before me,
Like a cat avoiding a dog.
But how could I deny that empty pit, haunting my every move
I was playing a game lying down
My mind demolishing me.
Those sleepless nights lost as was I,
before you shifted in my mind.
You were disguised as a butterfly
Yet thorns grew from your wings
Expanding and recoiling, in time for you to hide once more
It was for love after all?
I grew up with a self-image as tattered as the blinds of the bedroom we shared.
Our twin sized mattresses pressed gently against the wall opposite to one another.
It wasn't the stigma of ptsd alone that stumped me,
But the stigma of being Native American and dealing with ptsd
Statistically, I'm lucky to have made it to 15 without committing suicide
So I suppose I've achieved one outstanding thing,
thus far
Even if I had avoided suicide,
alcohol would welcome me with open arms School after 12th grade?
Absolutely not.
how dare I think I'm going to be successful
After-all, there's no escaping a town you are destined to never leave
At least, that's how it felt
It wasn't until that November afternoon, my foot glided over the threshold.
My eyes began wondering the room,
Gazing at the glossy tile floors and its astonishing resemblance to a normal hospital.
Although, this wasn't a hospital for broken body parts,
but rather a broken mind
It was a way to stitch up the wounds remaining from your departure.
To gather the remaining pieces of myself
To reassemble some part of myself that was mangled as you dragged your thorns across them
And it commenced,
Questions
Paperwork
More questions,
And more paperwork,
"How do you feel today?"
"So explain one more time, what happened?"
Overwhelmed
and Exhausted
I'm too young for this,
I'm too young to feel so restricted
To feel so alone
As I sit here writing this,
tears staining my cheeks
The past being resurfaced
the way a time capsule might be
You may be able to flee the scene,
But I will have you know
Day by day
Like a puzzle,
it started to click in place
The line between right and wrong emerged
So I say to you,
I am no longer ruined by you,
I am no longer cowering at the sight of you,
I am stronger than you ever made me feel,
I am loved far more than you had ever said
And I will be far more
than this minuscule town,
I will be more than the statistics.
It wasn't for love after-all.
You are not my solace,
You are not my family,
And you sure as hell are not a butterfly.
