18 years of PTSD

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By Darren

For 18 years at certain times of the year, a switch is flipped.
For 18 years I have the recurring dream where I’m having a conversation with my old friend and say the things that I never can.
For 18 years every time we have that conversation, he ends it by doing something horrific. I can’t move. I am powerless.
For 18 years I’ve woken up feeling frozen, disconnected and in shock.
For 18 years I become stuck in the past and go back to the future all at once.

For 18 years I cry with love and with loss, shame and guilt, anger and sadness. I scream silently.
For 18 years I’ve been telling people I’m fine, honestly I am. I can talk about it now. It comes and goes. After a while you almost believe it yourself.
For 18 years I’ve acknowledged and accepted, acknowledged and accepted swimming and drowning in the waves of time.

For 18 years I’m fine the next day. At least what I mean is I’m back in the present day. I wear a mask.
For 18 years I’ve seen similar songs in others, a record stuck on loop that plays out for those that can hear.
For 18 years and for 18 years furthermore, I know that dream shall return.
For 18 years past and further all I have left to say is I miss you man. I miss you.