It’s not easy to expose myself; it never has been, but…

In a few days I’m doing some­thing I rarely do. I’m gonna share my 25-year tor­ment. It’s very hard to talk about most times and oth­ers not so much, but always, always hard to share very much. Some times it is so fresh for me it’s like it was just this morn­ing, while other times I’m in com­plete con­trol, have my com­po­sure and I can speak with­out difficulty.

There have been count­less moments in my life, so tiny but so mon­u­men­tal. It’s funny how a split sec­ond can cause some­thing as sim­ple as a scent to set me back cen­ter stage star­ring in my own night­mare. There I am with my back glued to the front of sub­way train rush­ing out of con­trol through that damn morn­ing reliv­ing flashes of the hor­ror. It’s as if frames from a film are the graf­fiti plas­tered on the walls around me. I smell some­thing, see some­thing, hear some­thing, and there it is crash­ing down on top of me crum­bling me to noth­ing. The screech­ing of the train is eerily sim­i­lar to the sur­real sound of that damn morn­ing. How can they be so sim­i­lar when they are so dif­fer­ent? I know it’s sym­bolic, but in all hon­esty, the rush­ing train, the screech­ing, the chaotic graf­fiti, none of it even comes close to truly express­ing the pure hor­rific pain and ter­ror of reliv­ing my worst moment in life.

I don’t even know if any­one will take the time to read my story, but that’s not really what it’s about. I’m doing this to heal and stop the tor­ture. I think it’s so I can for­give myself for not know­ing. If my story reaches some­one that knows the pain and I some how help them heal too, then if noth­ing else, the expo­sure will be worth it.

The Begin­ning – Bless­ing or Nightmare?