Cold tile floor. I am reminiscing on things I haven’t remembered in years. The nostalgia sticks to the roof of my mouth. I try to imagine what normalcy would taste like. How it would feel on my tongue. But instead I was gifted lost memory. It invaded my retinas and caused a brand new awakening. There was no person before the trauma- there was only someone who was less. But I woke up. Realized there was more. And let the imagery paint my amygdala a sharp, pointed, silver that drips down my spine whenever I see a face that looks like yours. I want to go back to dreaming that life is better than this. I want to go back before the memory. But it is too late now. A heavy pillar of “this is no longer my body” dissociation envelops me. I want to be at peace. I want a spiritual awakening. I want to know things are better than this. I want to move past it. But there’s still metal in my mouth from biting my tongue so hard it bleeds. This will never not be heavy.