JesseJestful

 My PTSD I am not a soldier, only a fighter; a dancer. I've never picked up a gun before and the only war I've fought is internal; a monster. The monster of PTSD hunts me down as well, a losing battle. Any free moment, I feel PTSD tapping on my shoulder, ready to dance its terrible salsa with me. If I reject, it becomes a waltz; slow and painful like a shot to the heart. As the music plays on, PTSD spins me back into the past, showing me memories I long to forget. It starts slow, spinning me till I'm numb and cold, no feeling left for me. Dipping me with the flashbacks, making me lash out at the surrounding people dancing through life. Slow