CASE FILE / FUSELINE” (~5,000 characters)

CASE FILE / FUSELINE” (~5,000 characters) [INTRO] They want a timeline, I give them fractures. They want a story, I give them patterns. Born with chemistry I never chose, opioids, benzos, alcohol—ghosts. My nervous system came online screaming, first lullaby was withdrawal breathing. So don’t ask when it started, don’t play that game— trauma was air before I had a name. [VERSE 1] Infant body, adult chaos, faces shift, safety lost. Adoption papers, clean new page, but the ink underneath never fades. They taught me love with a leash and prayer, obedience like oxygen, silence like care. I wrote letters like contracts in a child’s hand: “I’ll do my best in what you demand.” That’s not devotion, that’s survival ink, a kid learning how to disappear and blink. [HOOK] I’m a case file with a heartbeat, a mind split sharp under streetlight. I don’t break—I reroute, I don’t die—I divide. You call it symptoms, I call it staying alive. War memorial in daylight, witness with gaps at night. [VERSE 2] Privacy wasn’t sacred, it was a joke, boundaries eroded slow like smoke. Pictures taken when they shouldn’t be, body taught early: “you don’t belong to you.” Schools changed, states changed, hallways blurred, names rearranged. Teachers saw behavior, never saw the wound, I learned to smile while I scanned the room. [VERSE 3] Dissociation ain’t drama, it’s the exit sign. When pain is too loud, the mind divides. So I became a system, parts with jobs, one holds rage, one holds God, one holds the child that can’t stop shaking, one holds the memories I can’t stop breaking. They call it inconsistent, they call it fake— but my brain is a building after an earthquake. [HOOK] I’m a case file with a heartbeat, a mind split sharp under streetlight. I don’t break—I reroute, I don’t die—I divide. You call it symptoms, I call it staying alive. War memorial in daylight, witness with gaps at night. [VERSE 4] Domestic violence, love with a closed fist. Sexual violence, body that didn’t resist— not because I wanted it, but because freeze is real, biology locks up when it can’t escape the deal. Shame grows roots in the nervous system, and predators love obedience-driven victims. They don’t need monsters masks, they just need tone, they just need power, they just need you alone. [VERSE 5] Opioids felt like silence in my skull, a chemical hug when the world stayed cruel. Then I quit, clawed out, paid the cost, sobriety doesn’t mean the trauma got lost. It just means I stopped numbing the scream, started learning how to live inside me. [VERSE 6] Genes don’t decide, but they load the gun: COMT makes feelings stick, MAOA makes rage run, MTHFR drains the battery, APOE hates the fire— so stress hits harder and recovery climbs higher. This isn’t weakness, it’s a nervous system map, a fuse line running through every collapse. [FINAL HOOK] I’m a case file with a heartbeat, but I’m not your entertainment. Don’t call my survival “crazy” when it’s evidence in fragments. I don’t break—I reroute, I don’t die—I divide. If you want the monster, look at what was done. If you want the miracle— look at what I’ve become.