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You Know You Have PTSD When...

When you finally realize you can't continue making future plans on the days you feel good because chances of still feeling good when the planned day arrives are slim. The never-ending search for that elusive balance we hear so much of. Pffffffffft... Grateful for being able to sporadically entertain self and more gracefully turn others down, but what a(nother) pain in the ass.
 
A turkey burger that's done and ready to go out slides off the grill paddle. So, I go to put one on the grill but thinking that the oven would be fasted. -disassociate- I look on the grill for the turkey burger, but it's not there. I panic but look in the oven and it is there. Then I think "how the hell did it get in there?".

-Line cook
 
When people think you're doing so stellar because you're talking about all the insignificant bullshit.

& Then stare when a part of 'insignificant bullshit' is their question of when were you born and what's your mother's name and you stare at them blankly. What? Don't goddamn know. It's all siblings & murder & things nobody cares for, because either they happened too long ago, or not to your idea of them, society, or in a country you don't even find on a map.

When... c'mon everything is sunshine & that one is the same f*cked everywhere, needa stop caring about countries. #Fidelis for a reminder of what the f*ck I am, on days 'who' is nothing.
 
People looking like other people, and acting as yet other people, bring back everything that's wrong about your life

And jumps are also good for nothing these days, because strangers around with 'got your back'.
f*ckit. First I got a Russian mobster & then I got a well-meaning Christian from another goddamn country. Suck it, universe.
I don't want strangers, I want PackHomeHeartAlways. <- That should be a goals list, goddamn it. Refind pack. Visit pack. Go home, not out.

... You feel like that guy in Stay but hell, that guy at least finished what he meant to at the end of that movie. To the dismay of his f*cking psychiatrist who managed to read art is not f*cking art. Shrug shrug. Last time, my functional therapist was valium.
 

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