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.
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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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