Coping with the World

By: Amanda Pendley

I was in the middle of Alabama, silhouette illuminated by the golden hour’s subtle sunlight, engrossed in a conversation with my cousin, just catching up.

He’d asked me if I was any better, and I’d told him that “at least I know my triggers now.” 

He replied "that’s impressive for someone so young, it helps you cope with the world,”

But it’s not impressive because its uncommon,

It’s impressive because somehow, I am still here.

It’s not merely a coping strategy, it is a survival technique.

Coping with the world is taking a pause: 

A moment of reflection to mimic the minute memory of the mesmerizing mentality that I once had possessed. 

A pause to recollect, reclarify, ratify that despite whatever intangible feeling lied inside of me, the tick tick tick of the clock will always keep on tolling.

I fluctuate in a fluid frequency between light and dark, finally settling inside a static grey.

Settling.

Coping is always settling. That’s why I prefer enduring or advancing because to me 

coping is the nuance nagging at the necessity of needing someone.

When I’d much prefer to keep to myself.

Coping is a way to get through not to, the final destination a mere proclamation of desire, and dependability. 

A road sign so close but so far away, 

An illusion to the mind that results in 

Settling.

I know my triggers because it is intrinsic to my survival, slithering through life hoping not to trip an alarm disguised as a normality.

The clock is still tick tick ticking, just as I am.

Tick, shaking because of a house painted light blue.

Tick, I read a story that mentioned a rope, had to be excused in class.

Tick, they remind me of someone I used to know.

I tick the triggers off my trembling fingers.

Clairsentience does not ask for your consent to worry, you feel whether it is your problem or not,

So how am I supposed to cope with the world when I can't even cope with myself. 

But is knowing my triggers really a coping mechanism

Or is it simply acknowledging the obvious overdose of empathy clairsentience has created,

Permeating in my bones,

Either way it has kept me alive.