PTSD: I'm Damaged

When my tears no longer mean anything.
They start so heavy and wet then burn up and evaporate much like my thoughts.
My face is hot & my body is cold.
There's nowhere to go it seems.
Can't outrun myself.
I'm never home.
I'm never stable.
I'm never happy.
Incomplete.
Always alone in this.
Why does it always feel like I'm fighting; for something impossible?
I'm impossible.
Unlovable.
A loaded gun ready to fire at will.
I'm ashamed.
I'm ashamed of running and equally ashamed for staying in situations I need not be in.
I burn bridges then go back to the ashes and sob.
I make messes I can not clean up.
Never knowing what is right.
Mixed up, messed up, bordering insane.
Exausted.
How can this be me?
How can this be my life?
If I say out loud in these moments my true thoughts, my true pain, my true feelings:  they'd judge me, commit me, and rightfully so.
Only confirming what I've known all along:
I'm damaged.

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