I've been in a weird place in recovery lately. I figured out a way to compose myself and exist as a single unit... But so much of my memory remains guarded. It feels impossible. It feels endless.

But even then, if someone were to say something along the lines of, "That must've been scary," I just think to myself, well... Yeah, it must have been. But hell if I know, because it didn't happen to me... Only I guess it must have.

I feel fake when I recount things, sometimes. Like I haven't earned the right to say what happened, because I just realized what it was... It's like it didn't happen to me (couldn't have, right?), but the flashbacks keep insisting otherwise. 

I don't know how I'm going to keep dealing with this... I genuinely don't. The memories are so much nowadays. My mind runs like a faucet and I feel like screaming...

And then the faucet shuts off, and I feel fake again. Like I'm just rehearsing some tired storyline that doesn't actually apply to me.