zigginah

Tear-stained cheeks, my mascara was now an ugly smudge after being ruined with all the crying I had been doing for the past hour. I could not recognize myself as I looked through the mirror. The more I stared at myself the more the tears. I could hear them in the next room. Their moans enraged me and made me feel like throwing up. I retched but nothing came out. 

Disgust is what I felt.


My life had turned out to be a chaotic mess and I wondered what I had done to deserve all that. I was a good person or so I believed.

I smiled through the pain and thought to myself that everything was going to be okay. I did not believe that myself but I had to tell myself to keep going or I would be stuck in a loop with my past trying to set myself free...

DAWN.

I always found other people's opinions to be tacky.

Most of the time they would say something offensive and think that it was okay when it was not.

I was also not the type of person to open up so I was okay with my grief. It couldn't kill me. If it were to kill me it would have been a long time ago.

I also never believed in therapists. I knew people who had gone to therapy their whole life and nothing has changed.

They were just worse maybe even worse than they were before.

For someone to heal they hard to work through their trauma on their own. Sitting in an office with an overpaid person who just looked at you drinking coffee was never going to help.

Like the people who had childhood traumas most of the time they were made to sot with their parents and tell them how their situations had made them turn out.

WHICH IS BETTER?