Prompted by The Marbury Lens

Self-indulgent whining about ~reenacting traumatic events~ which the main character does a few times.

Part of you feels like it never really happened, like it was just a dream.

Part of you feels like it never really stopped happening.

Making it real again, and then making it stop, is a way to try and get those parts of you back on the same page.

I don’t know why this doesn’t make sense to everyone, sometimes it seems like the only thing in the world that makes sense, it is literally the process of making sense of what happened to you so there’s that.

Who doesn’t need that? To go over, to delineate, to describe the structure of what happened and how it hurt you and why it was wrong.

People who weren’t gaslit, maybe. IDK.

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