stuck in the basement

everyone is moving on and i'm still in my parents basement. i'm not even using the apartment down there, i'm just on my laptop in my room. i don't even have a job. i'm not going to school this fall. i would be caught dead at a singles ward. today i didn't even go to church. i laid on my couch and watched every episode of Sherlock.

i told my mom two nights ago that i didn't really want to be a member of the church anymore and she was supportive but i know i broke her heart. mom, i know that the gosple you have taught me since infancy is true, it's just that i'm terrified of conforming. so please give me time. i'll come around eventually.

i told my therapist about the triggers that i have when i'm out at night and when fireworks go off. she said that they are healthy but it's hard to see it that way when you scream at the sound of poppers going off and when you can't help but run to your car because you heard a twig snap in the yard. and i understand why everyone says that Hounds of Baskerville is the boring episode of the series but to me it is the only relatable one. shows rarely show the affects of PTSD years later.

i'm not very poetic anymore. i can't make my pain sound beautiful like i used to. it's impossible for me to tell you about my self harm relapse and make it metaphorical at the same time. it just happened and i couldn't control myself. there's no message in that.

i guess i'm just stuck in the basement where my words are meaningless and the walls are deep enough to dull the sound of fireworks and the voice of God.

they're back.

and i would apologize,

but this time I deserved it.