It's like a flood. It comes pouring in to your sacred place of solitude. A place humans are supposed to feel the safest. Our homes, our minds. What do you do when your own mind is drowning you? You're struggling for air but you keep falling deeper and deeper, getting pushed down by the current of the rushing waters, memories. It's like a movie playing over and over again in my head. Except, there's no pause button. Nothing to stop the agony.
Some look at me with admiration and pride. If they only knew that I really never left the war, it's still raging on in my mind. Over and over again. Hero? Soldier? I can't come to terms with those labels so many have given me. I may have medals for my actions, but it will never change what happened that day. The day the waters rushed through my doors and filled my home. The day everything I cared about was damaged or destroyed. The day I can never seem to escape. The day everything changed.
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