Trauma 2.0: What Stayed. Content Warning.
i think
trauma comes
from when you feel powerless—
when you couldn’t do anything
in the moment.
you are so scared
the only thing you can do
is think the next thought
to stay alive.
or just
to survive it.
like when i was robbed—
i kept thinking
if i had a gun,
one that could
blow their kneecaps
wide open,
the pain and terror
i was feeling—
they could feel it too.
to see them begging
for mercy,
the same mercy
they didn’t show me.
they didn’t just rob me
of my stuff.
for a long while,
they stole my ability
to sleep through the night
without fear.
every sound
became something—
the creak
in the door hinge
that needs oiling,
the stillness
when everything
goes quiet,
as if
it’s waiting
for the attack.
the instinct
to hold onto your wallet
if someone looks
a second too long.
when they broke in,
it told me:
i am never safe.
walls and locks
don’t mean anything.
being kind
doesn’t mean anything.
doing your best
won’t mean anything.
my sense of self
was stolen
with the chains.
if i could make them feel
just one second
of what they left behind,
it would almost feel
worth it.
they stole twenty-five years
in fifteen minutes.
i want them to feel
what i still
have to fight
not to feel.
and the other thing—
they didn’t understand,
or maybe they did—
you never know
when it’s coming back.
you go months,
even years,
and then it slips in again,
like they did,
to rob and dismantle
everything
you’re trying to build.
they did it.
i survived it.
but memory
doesn’t let me forget.
trauma settles
in what stays—
what refuses
to leave
when they did.
fear.
