I often wonder a lot, weather or not I've actually healed from my traumas, how would one know? It helps to see a concept so seemingly large from an outside perspective, yet it is a sight almost impossible to see if you currently reside inside the thing. In my case, years went into unraveling my past, where most would let dead things die "It" kept surviving. A flicker of me, dim and distant, threatened to be snuffed out at any instance, like a candle in the center of a monsoon.
How did it stay lit? A labyrinth is this consciousness, within it, a resistance grew twords Love and the implications surrounding that word are deeply rooted in negative connotations.

When I ignored what was done to me I unconsciously sought to play out these shadows through impulse, lead by vivid imagination, followed by hesitant action. A child never really understands what it is they're doing and I was once a child, distant memories that retaine the feeling of only yesterday. A feeling is what lead me inwards, a strong feeling that resonated throughout my spine and washed over my nerves like a tsunami of mixed emotions, reverberating from the back of my neck, down my tailbone and throughout the tips of my fingers and toes.. goosebumps on command from what I conjured through intense visual imagination.
However, at some point I chose to internalize these thoughts of unknown origin and let them torment me from the inside out, mysterious moments of paralyzing realizations, in the midst of facing absolute horror that felt much like the night terrors that lurked in the dark unknown corners of my ever changing environments, conspiring with skeletons to eat my flesh whilst I slept, wearing faces of familiar strangers. I wouldn't let myself act out my imagination for the horror it painted of it's own volition, for obvious reasons. This Violence echos in silence, I awaken.. dripping in cold sweat... Blood, gore, mutilation... torture of all kinds pleuged my everyday thoughts and by the time I realized I was 13years old, I...