There was little fire that started near flammable substances and climbed up the wall.

It could've ended really badly.
I put it down fast after switching off gas.
It's been an eventful morning.
People that could've gotten hurt are laughing now about something unrelated.
Oblivious to the danger.
If I were late for few minutes, they'd all be burnt flesh now.
My heart is still beating like I am in a marathon.
My legs still doubt they can carry me.
And these people are fine, they are laughing.
I don't say it with envy. I get that we all deal with problems differently.
But it reminds me of the fact that though me and two other siblings went through the exact same experiences, they didn't get PTSD the way I have.
And they rather live lives pretending it didn't happen than ever acknowdge that part.
Death is hard to digest.
So pleasure, pleasure, pleasure.
Fear maybe, shame or just the many nuisances of having to fit in a world that has a short attention span.
And it does force you to fill in the gaps and have less resources because you're on your own.