Through the Fog

Tag: trauma response

  • Irrational Emotion

    They call it irrational

    like naming it that

    should make it smaller.

    Like feelings

    need permission

    from logic

    to be real.

    I know it doesn’t make sense.

    I know the reaction

    doesn’t match the moment,

    that my chest

    shouldn’t tighten this fast,

    that silence

    shouldn’t feel like abandonment,

    that one small shift

    shouldn’t unravel

    an entire day.

    And still—

    it does.

    Because emotion

    doesn’t always ask

    what’s reasonable.

    It remembers.

    Old wounds

    wear new faces.

    Past pain

    learns new names.

    And suddenly

    I’m not just reacting

    to right now—

    I’m reacting

    to every version

    of this feeling

    I’ve ever survived.

    That’s what people miss.

    It’s not irrational

    when your body

    thinks it’s protecting you.

    Even if it’s wrong.

    Even if the danger

    isn’t real anymore.

    So no—

    maybe it doesn’t make sense

    from the outside.

    But inside this skin,

    inside a heart

    that learned fear

    before safety—

    it feels

    completely real.

  • P.O.S

    If I’m a piece of shit,

    there’s a reason why—

    people don’t just wake up

    one day

    already hardened,

    already angry,

    already convinced

    they’re something disposable.

    Something happened.

    Maybe not all at once.

    Maybe slowly—

    in the ways I learned

    to expect disappointment,

    to keep my guard up,

    to strike first

    before something else

    could hurt me.

    Maybe I got tired

    of being soft

    in places

    that treated softness

    like weakness.

    Maybe I became difficult

    because easy

    kept getting destroyed.

    That doesn’t excuse everything.

    I know that.

    I know I’ve hurt people.

    Know I’ve said things

    I can’t take back,

    become someone

    I barely recognize

    when the worst parts of me

    take over.

    But I’m tired

    of acting like pain

    appears out of nowhere.

    Like damage

    doesn’t leave fingerprints.

    Because nobody asks

    what made me this way.

    They just point

    at what I became.

    And maybe

    I am rough around the edges.

    Maybe I carry too much anger,

    too much regret,

    too many things

    I never learned

    how to put down.

    But underneath all of it—

    under the bitterness,

    the defense,

    the self-destruction—

    there’s still a person here

    trying to understand

    how they turned into someone

    they never meant to be.

    So if I’m a piece of shit—

    there’s a reason why.

    And maybe

    understanding that reason

    is the first step

    toward becoming

    something else.

  • Exit Signs

    I’ve memorized

    every exit sign

    in every room

    I’ve ever entered.

    Not consciously—

    it just happens.

    My eyes find them

    before they find people.

    The quiet glow above a door,

    that steady promise

    that leaving

    is always an option.

    I sit in conversations

    half-present,

    half-planning—

    measuring distance,

    timing silence,

    figuring out

    how long I can stay

    before I start to disappear.

    It’s not that I want to leave.

    It’s that I need to know

    I can.

    Because I’ve been in places

    where doors didn’t feel real,

    where staying

    was the only choice

    and it cost me more

    than anyone ever saw.

    So now I look for exits

    even when I’m safe.

    Even when nothing’s wrong.

    Just in case.

    Just in case

    the air shifts,

    the room changes,

    the ground under me

    starts to feel familiar

    in all the wrong ways.

    And maybe one day

    I’ll sit somewhere

    long enough

    to forget to look.

    Maybe one day

    I’ll trust a room

    to hold me

    without needing

    a way out.

    But until then—

    I’ll keep noticing

    the soft red glow

    above every door,

    and reminding myself

    I can leave

    if I need to.