Things are louder now.
My ears hurt more; winces are common and confrontations make me curl up.
But the head is occasionally quiet, the screaming at the back no longer around. She must have moved on.
Back then, the emotions are greater, stronger, filling me up like nuclear explosions. Toxic yet captivating. It’s muted now.
Back then I felt more, touched more, connected and fell more. Believed more. There’s the cynic now, squinting away at the brightness of the present.
It was an explosion back then, loud and always expanding, never ending reaches and I felt reckless with how far my emotions spread. Now I see the barriers, I feel the control and the careful, logical constrains.
Respond, not react.
But am I still me?