Uninvited
It's here.
It's here all the time.
Crawling inside me, uninvited.
Get out.
Get out, get out, get out!
No, it's still here.
Making me see…
Please, don't make me see.
Stop.
This memory.
It isn't mine.
It isn't mine, and I shouldn't have to carry it.
Jumbles up my thoughts, turns me inside out, makes me do things I shouldn't—couldn't.
Have to get it out.
Out!
Out of me, and into others.
Yes.
It'll be better when they know it too.
Better…
It's better.
I'm okay…
I'm okay.