suffering trauma sucks. like i just had all that other shit under control. like i don’t know guys. i got better and worse after hearing my manager lost 4 liters of blood internally and had 3 surgeries and got 30 staples in the surgery wound. like actually saving a life sounds so rewarding. it’s not. it’s terrifying. it's having the memory of my manager on his phone, calling his wife while struggling with the pain of being shot in the stomach. it’s saying “i’m sorry” to him over and over on the phone with a dispatcher, trying to be clear and helpful because i don’t want my manager to die. it’s being swarmed by 10 cops and asking them “can i ride with him in the ambulance?” and them telling me no, i have to answer some questions. it’s handing my manager’s keys and phone to the closest cop and saying please take these, they’re his, i don’t want him to lose them. it’s sitting in the back of a cop car for over an hour, terrified and shaking and unable to stop crying. it’s going home that night and crying. it’s finally passing out at 6 and then waking up at 10 and having a headache and crying more. it’s worrying. and worrying more. and worrying more, until i’m able to see my manager in the hospital, and he looks weak and frail and human. and he’s laughing and joking but he’s in pain, and tired, and what can i do now? nothing. and he gets to go home, and heal, and everyone tells me i did everything right, and it doesn’t feel good and i don’t feel proud and all i want is to rewind time and hope he doesn’t go outside for a smoke break and see that kid trying to steal his car. but i can’t. i can’t.