The man who breaths backwards - SheStrikesInwards

What if time didn’t move forward at all?

The psychologist, sees it every day in her patients.
They don’t speak of the past they remember the future.

One man describes the silence of his own funeral.
Another whispers about the night she will leave her children.
Here, therapy isn’t about healing, but undoing. The drinker speaks of the bottle that will return to his hand. The scars on another patient’s arms, she says, will soon split open again.

She believes them, because she feels it too. She remembers her own death the soil, the coffin, the darkness. Since then, her life has been rewinding: illness dissolving, friendships reborn, marriages stitching themselves back together.

Then one evening, she opens a new file: Winston, 52.
She remembers his last breath, his final words. She was there.

But the file says: “First session.”

The next day, Winston walks in, alive and unbroken, and smiles at her.
And she realizes she no longer knows which way time is meant to flow.

Maybe the real madness isn’t time itself, but the way we carry it inside us.