Grocery Store Sunday

Rattle, grip the bar
A blast of air
Beep, beep
Leering balloons
Laughter
Bodies swoop by
A cacophony of noise and color.

No, it's not a carnival —
it's just another grocery store Sunday,
and I, its most ghoulish participant.

Life after trauma feels something akin to taking the red pill (from The Matrix, for those who are unfamiliar with the reference).

You wake up in this strange world. Only you were never given the choice whether you wanted to take the red pill or the blue pill. Everything is distorted and distant, even your own body, yet also simultaneously overwhelming. Your senses either feel bombarded or eerily numbed.

Places, like the grocery store,
activities, like drinks with your friends,
things you once took for granted,
are now battlegrounds.

I want you to know that I am with you all,
learning how to navigate this new world.

Until the day comes where I no longer feel like an alien in a hostile land,
you will find me, earbuds in tow — and sunglasses, if I dare, inhaling a deep breath
at the threshold of the grocery store.