I think I have PTSD from a word.
I believed that this word is one of the most strong and powerful words,
Until I overused it,
And wrote so much about it,
That maybe it lost its meaning.
Now, whenever this word creeps up in conversations,
In life changing stories,
In appreciations about consistency,
About being strong in the worst of days,
And yet not giving up,
This word gives me chills,
And not in a good way.
It still holds the same meaning,
But I, no longer want to hear it,
Maybe I can be the best case study for the word,
For I've been resilient,
In the actions I do,
And in believing the beliefs I believe.
But, this word, isn't enough to define me.
For this word restricts to it's dictionary meaning,
Of the capacity to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness.
But it doesn't define how vulnerable I've been,
On days that led me to this one,
When you casually call me resilient.
It doesn't define how fragile the heart has been,
On nights that saw the raw emotions streaming down the eyes,
And when the heart beat so loudly that it felt like thunder,
When you casually call me resilient the next morning as the sun shines without acknowledging the storm that passed by.
So, when you call me resilient,
I'll laugh at you,
For I am not resilient,
And I am more than those three syllables,
That restrict me to be only tough,
For I'm breaking,
As I pick up the pieces,
From the trauma it left me.