When I walk into my bedroom, the sight of my bed brings the exhaustion in my mind and body to a boil. I plop down and almost as quick as my head hits the pillow I begin to drift off. I knew this would happen it always happens after therapy. I know it will get easier and I won’t always be this tired coming home, but I still hate this feeling of totally drained. The glory of BPD and PTSD I suppose. ...

The blue and red lights flicker across the night sky as I open my eyes. I can’t make out what exactly is happening before me. I feel something trickling down my arm, my head is pounding. I can’t breath. There are so many noises happening all around me. I strain to make any of them out.

“It is over there!” Someone with a deep voice bellows from off to the left of me.

I turn my head in the direction...