it's like trying to find the exit in the pitch black, bumping into triggers. if depression is a dog, what is a trigger - a clawed creature that tears into my mind. it rips me open. it rewinds an old tape that flickers from age - frames small minutes i have forgotten / i don’t want to remember. if i hadn’t been young, naïve - lacking in self awareness or wearing that top. if it happened now - it wouldn’t happen. i hide, avoid all contact, construct cages, lock myself in. never let my guard down again. 

Kate © 

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