blue beyond wire

The world has a way of taking without giving. It can wear you down and steal your power until you forget you had any power to begin with. It’s easy to blame yourself for falling into the abyss, but it’s no one’s fault. The universe is off-balance. Magnetic force fields pull stars from the sky and the moon sends the sea into a frenzy and we are doing the best we can.

Amana’s fingers stilled over the keyboard. She was fairly certain she founded crazy or, at best, like some hippy-dippy cosmonaut. She rolled her eyes, reaching for the mug of coffee. The cafe was audibly bustling, yet somehow Amana felt alone. Cafes are that way, aren’t they? Just a bunch of strangers being lonely in the same place. She glanced around at the peculiar people, bent over laptops and phones, captivated by novels, finding the answer to all of life’s questions in the bottom of their coffee cup. No one returned her gaze.

She turned back to the words, the cursor flashing on the screen, waiting for her to continue. Am I really doing the best I can? The thought came before she had the chance to shoo it away. “Yes,” she murmured, quiet but firm.

This is the best you can do? He was there. Somehow, he’d managed to sneak past her defenses. She could hear his smirk as he taunted her. She closed her eyes tightly, the cafe fading away until all she saw were white spots against the darkness. I guess there never was very much to you. His laugh was nails across the chalkboard, echoing in her mind, grating every nerve in her body. She could feel her nails biting into her palm, but it wasn’t enough to pull her out.

Pluto. The laughter continued - she could taste it on her tongue. Dandelion. Sidewalk. Prune. The voice faded away, her breathing coming steady. Slowly, she unfurled her fists, frowning at the crescent moons left inside her palms. You’re back. You’re safe. They’ll heal. She reached for the cup of coffee, hand shaking more than she’d hoped it would. The warmth slid down her throat and into her tummy, filling her and pulling her back into herself. She placed the mug on the table and turned her attention back to the computer.

There are experiences, people, traumas…they’ll rewrite your DNA. Who you were then and who you are now, they are not the same. You are not worse or better, just different. And you cannot hold yourself responsible for how you changed to survive.

The memories threatened to pull her, suffocate her confidence and security. It took her so long to get here, and some days it felt like she hadn’t made any progress at all. Today was one of those days.

You are not your weakest moment. You are not the darkest night or the harshest storm, you are not broken or irredeemable. But you are human. And so if you cannot repackage every horror life has handed you with a pretty bow and serve it at a dinner party, that is not a failure. It is okay to not be okay, to never be okay again. Despite what every Hollywood film would have you believe, your worth is not determined by your comeback. If all you can do is survive

I’m still in your head. Her breath caught in her lungs. The tears stung in her eyes. Fuck. Of course he was still there. He was always fucking there.