SCREEEEECH! SLAM! BAM…Bam! I knew it was coming, yet I didn’t expect an actual CRASH. I had finally willed myself to go, to be, to do, listening to pick-me-up songs, windows low to give my thoughts a blow…

But, NO! NO! NO! My curse will always find me and make good go from bad to oh so much worse!

A panic attack, a cop, and at home a toke, off to bed to escape my traumatized mind, PTSD triggered my brain is not kind.

I slept with no dreams, which was what I needed. The new day begun, I find myself cleaning with purpose again. I think to myself, “Obviously, this is where I belong.”

As I stuff my birthday bouquet of flowers into the garbage can, dead petals with a whimsical spin land on the tepid summer floor I had just swept.

I stare comatose at my atrophied feet, my breathing barely noticeable. The huuummm of the fidget, as it’s going to die, sounds like a rocket taking off, getting louder and louder and louder until I finally looked up…

From the far back of my blackhole of a brain muscle, where the sun and the moon and the stars full shine, I hear whispers tickling my neck at the spine:

“To thyself be kind, appreciate the complexity of your mind!”