This is one of those days, when all you can think about is, silence.
When light seems to seep through your skin, and leave you twitching in discomfort with a pounding in your head as you yearn for darkness. Louder, louder! And yet, all movement abandons you... Your muscles melt into a numb jelly at the thought of a twitch.
And so, you crumple in the heaviness of your guilt at being, alive... Unable to run away, all you can do is feel it. And view your every breath as a waste of seconds of life deserving of someone worthy. And as your body becomes one with the ground you are at home... Its cold hardness compliments your heart and plays along to the rhythm of its beat. For you are the same, and now where you belong. Worthless.
As you lie here, you begin to replay the truth so nakedly told... Over and over and consume each word with an agonizing jab to your heart. You bleed, but it's true after all. Don't fight it. Your breath is caught in your throat and the familiar sting of salty tears behind your raw unblinking eyes begins to burn. Beaten, you face up, helpless, at he who creates, causes and controls, to beg. With the energy of life you no longer want, you beg. To let you feel as they did. To let you live the hurt they lived...because of you. For their pain, you call out for it now. And plea to remember your own horrors, to relive your misery and to merely feel the torment of those you loved...yet caused. You ripped out their hearts, warm and bleeding. Their trust. Throbbing in pain from your hypocrisy and so called "words of comfort". Those you spoke so so genuinely. Truly foolish you are.
You writhe, shriek, weep, break down...in silence. Crying out for their suffering. And for Him to return yours. Together as one. You try and crush your heart in the weight of these sorrows, because all the times when you were wronged? You deserved them. All of them. You cause no happiness here...
Pitiful, valueless, inhumane you are. A waste. Undeserving of those who believe not to deserve you.
Still you burn inside, and look up at your creator, not to ask your purpose in life. Nor your reason to live. For death would be painless. And you deserve more. So you pray to live forever in their hurt, and your past horrors? For them to become your present. Forever.
So beg, you say... Beg for the tears of your loved ones, all those that YOU caused. You pray for them and your own and wish them to flow, pour, and never end...and carry away the torture you seem to cry for.
But tears? There comes none. Hollow you are... Gone. You are all, all gone. And so that is my torment.
