I just couldn’t.
I had to sleep it alone, off of me.
A three hour Therapy Session is much deeper then any valley in our hearts.
I had the words in my head-repeating, cycling, ready for the page, but I sit there with no appetite to give my all.
Instead, I turned to the Midnight Drink, listening to records and watching my favorite German Movie.
Yesterday, my goal was to carry my laptop with me to a space other than my own.
I know it is a superficial notion-to be a Writer and sit in the local Cafe watching people for some sort of fictional inspiration.
But, I am pushing myself to become apart of any community, but I don’t know how to write fiction.
My structure was supposed to be a Chapter from my PTSD, as War has created additional wounds inside.
This photograph is of an Army Wife posing for a PTSD Ad.
I myself, a former Army Wife, destroyed from rapid Deployments and the
Ft. Hood Massacre as he was.
I, already furnished with PTSD, now entered into battle with Veterans.
My goal, failed. A day late and a devote soloist, it won after I gave it all.