Screaming. Screaming roaring through me. Nothing could possibly make it cease.
Pain.
A word that is so incredibly simple, used with much force. You would most likely expect me to use terror, agony, or even suffering; yet I chose pain.
Why?
The way I used the word could be frightening. The way I'm feeling—the life I hadn't chosen.
My own body disowned its own host, its own blood. Traitor.
You'd now expect me crazy using a word as simple as "pain", or just plain mad for overreacting my paranoia with a word as harsh as "pain."
The hurt I feel, the broken of souls. I was alone. I had no heart, for I was living through the eyes of empathy. The trouble that ran through me. The aching felt surreal yet unbothered me. The feeling was comfortable. I, dare I say, hoped it lingered on. The only feeling I welcomed as an old friend. The only existence of burn that aided me. You'd now expect me mad. Questioning my comfort, to something known as unhuman; and I still had chosen the word pain to describe this horror.
I am in pain, father.
The word yet not startled me but serviced me. A word kept me on the edge of my seat waiting for the action to commence. Oh, the effect it had on me.
I felt disconnected from the very world causing me to despise my own kind; or the only thing that kept me sane.
Would you call me sane?
I think I was. What would you think a hopeless soul would feel as close to home as you feel when you're with you're loved ones. Would you call them your loved ones, considering your different view on life?
You'd think I'm overreacting, but my dear, you accuse me of an act you have bestowed upon me. You accuse me of feeling alive when all I dare ever feel is live a fabricated lie. The horridness I feel when eyes fall upon me with sorrow, pity. You dare pity me when you, yourself, have presented it. I am lost for words. A freak for words, you see, I have never been a fan of words much. Never was one to speak, I'd just break all over again. My language only baffles others, as if I'm speaking nonsense. The saying, I'm sure you are familiar with, "actions speak louder than words."
Hmm...
Well, in that case, I'd break you, bring you shame in something you felt your legacy lie. I'd bring you hell upon everything you hold dear. I would tear you apart until all that is left is your disgusting inner core. You say I'm dark, well at least my darkness isn't clouded with revolt, such as yourself. I would ruin you, hurt you. Make sure you understand that the pain you are receiving is well deserved. I would project the exact pain on you as you did to myself.
This 'feeling' I am feeling is quite uncanny. This feeling is the most wholesome feeling I can get myself to feel. The only feeling I can call home. I'm not ignorant to the meaning of words that can, quite frankly, describe my ghostly desire. When you live a life of hell, do you expect to have all the questions answered? No. you simply, in my experience, of course, shut the words of the very entertainer's mouth completely. I needed something I could classify with a feeling of desire, the never-ending longing of finding my label.
Anything that gave me a sense of belonging.
Anything that could anchor me down, ground me, to sanity. Something I can actually feel sorrow for, yet fondness towards.
I found this word, Pain. You would not know what the pain could be referring to.
Love.
Trust.
Honor.
Reputation.
Family?
This feeling disconnects me from reality entirely.
The only word that can slip from my throat easily, without me screaming till the sun itself would burst in out of existence...
is pain.
