it’s like trying to catch smoke isn’t it this feeling of trying to pin down what’s actually wrong in therapy i mean beyond the childhood stuff the emdr and the breathing and the remembering all of it just trying to make sense of the shape of the hurt how it fits now that it’s all grown up alongside you like some twisted vine choking the life out of any kind of future growth and i guess that’s why i keep going back even when it hurts because what else am i going to do just let it win let it keep defining me until there’s nothing left but the echo of what could have been or maybe that’s already happened and i’m just too stubborn to admit it too afraid to face the quiet truth that maybe some things just break and stay broken that maybe there’s no such thing as fixing just learning to live with the cracks that spiderweb across your soul