Trauma is like sitting on a shelf Watching your life go by such hustle and bustle a triadic tug of war between anxiety, hope, and depression. Linda's momma said it so succinctly, "No, dear, she isn't new." My corduroy overalls are missing a button. I almost forgot I'm broken, myself the only one buying the deception. But the work it takes to get up and function, so as to not scare the others, feels already like an unfair, all-consuming disadvantage. So to also climb back in with this humanity whose proven so harmful and sew myself back, presentably, together is impossible. Little Linda, come rescue me too love me as I am perhaps then I might have a chance to come alive again.
