Joanna
Seeing him sitting there at the table just looking so dejected, so wounded, so broken chipped away at every piece of my heart. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know what he went through. His vague answers were enough of a sign that he wasn't ready to talk about it. I didn't want to push but at the same time I knew sometimes that talking about things was a form of accepting and dealing with the pain. But my traumas were different from his. While mine are simply emotional traumas his are wired deep within his bones.
My trauma is hardly a blip on the map. Yeah i was dumped at a firehouse at birth, yeah i was raised in the foster care system, yeah the man i thought i was going to spend the rest of my life with destroyed my
