mental vs environment

I used to push everything on 42. I used to think that once I got out, everything would be okay. There's nothing else to it.

Now that he's silent, I feel like a resin has cured over me, and I'm shelled into this body. 

I feel like I am permanently ruined from my trauma.

I can't screw my head on straight. My mind wanders into places I've drenched myself into a million times. When I indulge, dip, I ache to let it envelop me again. I feel it. I feel it, I feel like me.

What is so wrong with that thing that spun my head around in the first place?

I think I might be nothing without my trauma. This is what I have grown into. I don't think my goal will suffice. Or rid me of this. I don't think my end goal is near yet. Full of tears, hollow innards, rage, contradictions, tears, tears, tears, tears, tears, tears. Tears. Tears inside of me.

He's quiet, but I am still waiting to be me again.

I ache, over and over, to just give up again.