This awful ache, a heavy stone in the pit of my stomach, tendrils of pain binding my chest, my throat, straining my arms. It aches, it aches.
At it’s peak, it’s like wounds have lascerated my body. Rivers of blood flow from my hands, my arms, my gut. The pain feels so real.
And sometimes there’s nothing, its as if I’m fading, turning into a whisp, slowly becoming erased from this world.
If I disappeared, would anybody know?
I have moments when I feel lighter. Almost healed. The scars have disappeared. I’m whole and real again. The ache reduced to a tiny grain, a fragment.
But often it’s like the sun is shining on the most beautiful day, and I can see it, but can’t enjoy it because its raining so hard inside me.