STOCKHOLM SYNDROME


It felt like I was being swept away by raging waters. Me, flailing my hands, exerting to grasp onto something, anything that could give me a lifeline, even the amorphous abstract of hope. Lacerations from jagged edged rocks searing on my palms. Brittle plants and their branches snapping to send me off like you would a guest. The ravenous waters brutal, smashing me against the rocks therein. Adrenaline hurtling under my skin. Whenever my face sufficed above water I’d gasp for air, frantically. My breathlessness aggravating as the futility of my pursuit for recourse became apparent. Energy decimating in my limbs. My huffs and puffs muffled by the waters now filling my lungs. All through, I was making peace with the divine for a smooth transition. Resigned to fate. Reality brandishing its vileness on my face.

Then she moved in a couple of block away.

I was ready to drown again.

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