PTSD & Autism: Chaos & The Quiet

By Eve Hinson, American Badass Advocate Founder & Editor-in-Chief

I stand here barefoot on carpet,
the fiber of comfort and home pressed into my soles.
My roommate,
The Quiet, stands with me.

We watch branches and leaves swing through a wet window.

The Quiet doesn’t echo the cacophony in my mind.
Instead it’s a friend and wraps me in a swathe of emptiness
like a blanket.

It provides comfort in fear,
and its silence feels like a threadbare and button-eyed love
hugged fierce in the dark.

It comforts more than honeyed chamomile
and says absolutely nothing when I need it the most.

The Quiet is never jealous when I return home.
It doesn’t chide that I stink of Chaos
and then shame me for where I’ve been.

No,
solitude is always offered
and I’m reminded this is where I belong.
No matter what, I can always be here
and seek…

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