The Storm Inside Me

It is me caught in the middle of my own mind—between rage and restraint, memory and survival, the part of me that still screams and the part that has learned to go cold just to endure. I know what it is to carry pain in fragments, to feel old versions of myself rising without warning, each one demanding to be heard.

What speaks to me most in this piece is that inner conflict is not neat. It is loud, contradictory, and exhausting. Memory does not return gently, and hurt does not always stay in the past where it belongs. Sometimes it lives in the body, in thought, in silence, in the pressure of trying to hold everything together while something deeper is threatening to split apart.

To me, this is not just sorrow or anger. It is mental chaos shaped into a portrait—the war between what I feel, what I remember, and what I have to become in order to keep going.