It’s odd not feeling. It’s like having a tight ball sit above the heart, its form writhing like a baby in the womb. Desperate for air. For life. When that ball unwraps itself, something bursts out and fills me despite my pleas.
It’s them, I realize as they incapacitate me. It’s them. The feelings. They’re back.
They’re like a rapid
Current plummeting the shore
A merciless force
Photo by: Patrick Jennings