Panic

Jonathan Valania

*This piece includes references to panic attacks, past abuse, and emotional triggers. Reader discretion is advised, especially for survivors of domestic trauma.

 

June 14th 2025


The smell of books and coffee filled the air—

my safe place,

my sanctuary.


I was writing about you,

putting down words you never let me say,

the truths you punished me for feeling.


Then I saw you.

Walking quietly through aisles,

keeping distance,

honoring the order—

but not my peace.


He followed closely behind.

I wonder if he knows—

your fists,

your manipulation,

the knives hidden behind sweet words.


I caught a glimpse of your dress—

one I bought you,

one you should have purged

like I did everything from you.

You disappeared around a corner,

a ghost I thought was gone.


Thump.

Thump.

Thump.


Panic rose, tightening my throat,

spinning my head.

My heart raced, the room shrank.

I watched you leave,

but it didn’t matter.


Why here?

Why him?

You took my safe place,

the only place left

to purge my memories of you.

 

 

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