730 days, and I'm still not quite the same.
Headaches aren't headaches anymore.
I run my fingers along my dry, throbbing temple and still feel the shards of glass lodged beneath my skin.
Sometimes random drives are freeing, other times they feel like death traps. One minute my best friend and I are shouting the lyrics to "No Scrub", the next I'm spinning, glass shattering all around me as I roll, roll, roll, until there's nothing left of the car protecting me but some crunched up metal.
Then I'm back, and she asks why I'm screaming before I even realize sound was escaping me in the first place.
Perhaps one day I'll feel normal.
YOU ARE READING
Coping and Surviving: A Compilation
General FictionJust a random prose piece on recovering from a traumatic event-this is more for my peace of mind rather than it being an actual story. CONTENT WARNING: Do not read if you are a survivor of sexual assault and are prone to flashbacks/can be easily tr...
