AM I A JOKE TO YOU

I was in my room, when the mailman came to the door with a letter – the army was calling, but noone was hearing my cries but my mother.

Here I am, after years of working up my confidence, after trying to be the most me I feel is possible in this moment, in this capsule of the present. I am being pushed back, told it is only for the good of me, that I should relive the past instead of just moving past it. I am terrified of large groups of men, in the streets, at gyms, anywhere – a natural human trait, need of survival.