I’m trying to sit with this idea that I should have suffered more. That I got off too easily, whatever that means. I get that it demonstrates my general contentedness, but why does it exist at all. That isn’t how it works, that’s not fucking right. Not the least of it being that I can go back and pull an easy dozen moments of horror. Days and weeks and months of pain, confusion, rationalizing, sifting to find my faults and how to fix them. How did I fuck up, why did this hurt me, that’s probably my fault, I’m not right for this, I’m not the thing that belongs here, this is wrong, I’m doing harm. It’s better that we’re done. We’re done again. Again. Again. I’m at peace, we’re done, you’re back. You’re back and you’re back and there you are again. We were done and I was ok. I left a thousand times, it hurt plenty. So why? Why am I so hung up on what seems like getting off easily? I’m not so broken, I know better, I recognize the irrationality of it… and yet. And yet it persists the same way the intrusions do, the never ending duel with duality.