PTSD and Me: The Monster Who Lives Inside My Head
He’s here,
Again.
The monster inside my head.
Scratching.
Clawing.
Digging,
At my skull.
Eyes wide open.
Leave me alone,
Please!
Dark.
Moonlight.
Clock,
Tick, tick, ticking.
Night sounds.
Refrigerator whirs.
Air conditioner hums.
Tick, tick, tick.
Owl hoots.
Cricket chirps.
Tick, tick, tick.
Then quiet.
So quiet.
A scream!
From inside?
Him, or me?
He’s there.
In front of me.
Behind me.
Over there.
No, over there.
Laughing.
Maniacal and hysterical.
Bullets.
Blood.
Bullets.
Twitching.
Quivering.
Like an animal,
Dying.
Flowers.
Roses.
Prayers.
Damp soil.
Tears.
Sadness.
But,
You did your job.
Sure,
Easy for them to say.
He shot first.
So …
Anxiety.
Fear.
Depression.
Insomnia.
Can’t sleep.
He’s here.
Again.
The monster in my mind.
Scratching.
Clawing.
Digging,
At my skull.
Eyes wide open.
Why every night?
I only killed him once.
* If you are in a crisis please seek help. You cannot do this alone. Call 911, go to your nearest emergency room, talk to your doctor, or call 1-800-273-8255 (1-800-273-TALK).
What a powerful post, Lee. Thank you for your courage in sharing it.