That feeling that just eats you up inside. You can feel it eating your insides like little tics that feed of fear and the darkness of your soul. You don’t chose to be this way but you wake up with that achy feeling. Like you rather get hit by a car or swept up by a tornado than to feel as low as it will take you. I rather have my wrist bleeding, slits everywhere than to feel like my mind is slowly going crazy. There is nojustification for this illness, no reason behind the madness. Your brain just fights itself and doesn’t realize it’s killing you internally. It’s a hurt in every way possible. Infecting your body and your mind. Nothing can cure it, only medication can suppress it. You think you can live your life like this? A prison in your own mind. Dead to your own touch. Makes you want to wake up and die. Living Is forced instead of wanted. Breathing is only optional. Thoughts of suicide gallop through my imagination, all the different creative ways to ease the pain. It’s just so selfish, Giving in. Not to fight the good fight. But how do you know when there is nothing else left to do? What happens when as much as you want to get better your mind wont let you. Keep going in agony? Or end it knowing you have done all you could..
There’s a war inside of me. It’s pulling me back and forth. It’s breaking my soul, weighing me down. She could only run away in her sleep, hoping that when she awoke it would okay. Harsh reality is that this is her life. The only way possible for her to survive. Razors was all she knew, pain was all she could feel.
Music in her soul was fading, the light gets dim. Volcanoes in her head, rain fallings from her palms. A virus eating away at her being. Hatred was following through my veins on the verge of going insane. A task only meant for death himself.