(no subject)
Imagine lying on the floor of a Cantonese girl's apartment, head cradled in your hands, streaming sweat in the summer heat, and explaining to her that you are having a PTSD related panic attack and need to leave *right now*, but that it isn't her fault, using the simple Mandarin vocabulary that you both know while trying not to scream in fear. Add to this that she is neurotic, paranoid, and self-centered, and you're both in your underwear.
That was me, uh, 30 minutes ago.
Right now I'm just trying to deal with all the emotions -- not to mention trying to find a place to sleep -- of running away from a very hurtful fling (on both sides) and the worst PTSD attack I've had in a long time. The good news is that I'm not broke (yet) and that I have a train ticket out of this god-forsaken city (Guangzhou) tomorrow. The bad news is, well, everything else.
I'll let you know again when I come up for air.
That was me, uh, 30 minutes ago.
Right now I'm just trying to deal with all the emotions -- not to mention trying to find a place to sleep -- of running away from a very hurtful fling (on both sides) and the worst PTSD attack I've had in a long time. The good news is that I'm not broke (yet) and that I have a train ticket out of this god-forsaken city (Guangzhou) tomorrow. The bad news is, well, everything else.
I'll let you know again when I come up for air.