Fighting Flight

Snip.

It went so quickly and left me with a mind of stone and a heart surrounded by a wall of doubt and shame.

Snip, snap.

I could barely grasp what I thought, much less what he meant.
It stood to reason that all around me, the sky was falling, and I was the cause of it, I was the end of it all as well.

Chilling, small shivers of truth sent wires up my spine, and I could do nothing at this point.
Only stare and distract.
I felt my arm itch as the scratchy truth prevented me from completely losing contact with reality.

Maybe I should let go, but I can't.
Maybe I should leave well enough alone, but I won't recant.

I know what I want, don't I?

To leave my false assumptions? Are you serious? I scream, it makes no sense.

But my motionless physical body repents and my mind is where it was before.

And I wondered why we even bothered if I knew I could not do much more than watch.

Yet I was in that moment of flight or fight
or fight or flight and stunned I stood with my hands desperately searching for something to do.

As my mind panicked, my subconscious was recording what I could not decipher at the moment.

After a few days, I realized that sense was made and my own reasoning was naught but a dream and a foolish fantasy of hope's expectancy.

But I figured we would have been distraught all the more if we had not tried at all.