The Aftermath

The pain never ends at the event. 

often it lingers in quiet reminders,

or dropped onto you by others arrogance.

their disapproval of how you handled it or of how you’re currently handling it.

criticized for being human. 

it’s in nightmares, day and night.

during the day it’s flashbacks, not in your mind but in the discomfort of existing in your own skin. the itch that tell you to run. to never stop. to fight and be on guard. it’s in the eyes of everyone who knows what you went through— or lack of it. in the night it’s dreams that place you in a state of fear, violence that creeps in, except you can’t move. reminding you of how you endured. and the fast rising and falling of your chest when you jolt awake paired with the panicked beating of your heart— that doesn’t easily go away. it’s in the forced numbing to get through each day. the navy-level seriousness. It’s in isolation. and the unseen trip wires by others that are tripped over, once you do emerge again. 

it’s in the realization after every single blackout, caused by the various trip wires.