PTSD is one of the things that you never want to cross paths with in your conscious life. It's like being stuck in your own nightmare, repeated from time to time, taking you further into the depths of the years of your own life. In this rapidly twisting carousel, it only gets worse and worse, more painful and more painful with every turn. The scariest thing is that there is no chance to open your eyes and realize a stupid frightening dream - as in sleep paralysis, you jump from one dream to another without a chance to wake up, and if you do, reality squeezes your throat with thin clawed hands so that you cannot breathe.  It is not noticeable how it comes, creeps up like a predatory beast from behind and until it rushes, you will not see it.  At first, everything seems quite familiar and normal: the desire to return to the place, put down new roots in the place previously torn out, surround yourself with something familiar and native in an attempt to hide stress, but nothing comes out. This is just an illusion, a thin cardboard box in which a stray cat is trying to survive the bad weather, only the walls are blown through, broadcasting what is happening outside the “safe cocoon”. Nightmares. Damn colorful, realistic nightmares that make you jump up with a cry of despair in a cold sweat. Everyone knows, they see that they have changed, they whisper about the doctor, but what's the point?  The man folds his arms over his chest and looks incredulously at the lady opposite. Another girlfriend, waking up from the rampage of an attack in her own house, tearfully begged to visit a psychiatrist - as if he could save her. “What do you say, doc?”a grin plays on his narrow lips, and his eyes sting. He knows he won't be here long. Nothing will save him and attempts are stupid - he is in his hell forever and it will not change anything.