This might seem kind of heavy, but hard life experiences in general.
This probably the case for most people, but things like living through a tropical storm/slight flood in a shack ("Rain Dance") and so many things that have been woven into "Damsel in the Red Dress" find new value, when they are written into a story. It feels like the experiences no longer happened for no reason when you can not just express what you went through, but show this to other people who believe that that part of your story matters. Maybe it can help them through similar things as well, if you choose to share it, or finally heal enough/become brave enough to be able to share it.
There’s a brief pause, and I think I can hear doors closing somewhere far away in his background. He asks almost timidly, “Do you want to tell me?”
Yes.
And no.
No no no.
I want to pretend it didn’t happen.
I want him to tell me it’ll be okay. That it wasn’t right.
And I don’t even know where to start.
With the calamity -? Or all of the space in between -?
Explaining what I should have seen coming but never did-
I’m such an idiot.
Maybe if I had…I wouldn’t be here, cowering in the dark, trying to get out of my body.
The tears start to fall in a steady stream like freezing rain.
It doesn’t hurt - or it hurts so completely - I can’t tell where it starts or it ends-