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01 December 2015 @ 12:48 am
Ribbons  

That moment when your head is swirling
with ribbons of words that your heart desperately aches
for you to string together into sentences
that you can pour out of your soul
into black and white descriptions
of your thoughts
and feelings...

...just to get some peace. Sweet momentary release of the emotional torture that plagues you, crushes you...          ..slowly killing you.

But the crushing depression that cripples your fingers, paralyzes your lips and sends your speeding freight train of erratic thought to a screaming halt as you drop to your knees, sobbing. It leaves you curled up in a ball on the floor in the middle of the night, screaming the pain of your heart into the cold hard tile as you pound your fists out of defiance onto the geound.

Your words become juat as erratic as your thoughts. Like someone flipping through the channels on TV, pausing for only a moment at each nostalgic frame before charging off to the next agonizing memory. The tears burn your swollen and bloodshot eyes, but they keep falling, cascading out of the jagged rift the one you love tore open in your heart. Your ribs hurt from sobbing, throat sore from wailing, hands bruised and bloody from beating on the bathroom floor. The blade only brings momentary peace, and after 4 cuts is cast aside out of frustration because the physical pain can't surmount the emotional hurricane you're drowning in. So you lay there on the floor, bawling to the point you get sick, and only then after dry heaving into the porcelain bowl do the cries soften to whimpers. Can't throw up food if you haven't eaten...  You collapse with your back against the wall and look down to broken nails and purple palms, utterly ashamed with yourself as you acknowledge and assess your current state. But then without pause, more words rise from the depths of buried memories and tumble through your ears, causing a pain more great than if flesh was stripped straight from the bone.

"Weak."     "..fold so easily."    "Stupid."   "Pathetic."   "..not attractive."

And it wells up like stagnant vomit as the searing pain rips through your heart, choking you of breath and crushing your chest again as the torturous cycle begins itself anew.

Nobody believes me when I say I'm not okay. I don't think they know to what extent this pains me. To live every day like this, in constant anguish. Because its getting harder and harder to persevere. More and more difficult to tell myself to stay alive, and mean it.

...with all these black swirling ribbons tying up my mind.