The safety of self-hatred

The safety of self-hatred

I shrug helplessly because the words have dried up and suddenly I feel like I’ve stepped partway into Narnia, into a deep place of unreality in my head. Part of me is with her in the room. Part of me is somewhere else. I’m not sure which world to choose. I’m not sure if I can choose.

We’re stuck because I’m perpetually in danger mode, convinced of her hatred of me.