Thank you, friend.

As soon as the yelling starts I’m nonexistent. In my head there are overgrown gardens full of impossible blossoms and an unreal perfume gives me a heady feeling of safety. In this world of beauty I’ve created just for hiding, I can’t quite hear the music. I get close to a soft twinkling in my ear when the harsh words knock me back to this subjective reality. I pull my head beneath the blanket and squeeze my eyes tight until my head is pounding and I can’t find my garden or my music or my reality. You find me in the chaos after what must be days and pull me from a thicket of blue sunflowers, hands soft and safe. When I finally open my eyes you’re sitting beside me and I’m not in my garden, but nobody is screaming or snapping or throwing things and that’s all I can ask for.

[Written December 23rd, 2016]

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