Fear of Yesterday

Yesterday still knocks even when today opens its arms. Trauma has a way of arriving early, whispering warnings where there is no danger. I carry old pain like a map I never asked for, reading signs that no longer exist, bracing for storms in clear skies. Happiness comes softly now, but fear asks questions first. It measures joy with memory, counts losses before blessings, and calls it protection. I want to believe this moment is allowed to be good. I want to sit inside the laughter without searching for the ending. So learning slowly to breathe without flinching, to smile without scanning for loss, and to let today be kinder than yesterday.