It's the feeling of feathers across your skin, the shortness of breath, the tears gathered in your eyes. It's the sleepless nights, tossing and turning, the waking from a nightmare and wishing to go back. Back to the darkness, to the terrifying demons that await you, because it would be better than what you have now. The heavy eyes and heavy heart when you smile to your friends, laughing and joking, bright and happy in the world they see.
It feels like falling, an eternal spiral always downward, but it does not bother you like it used to. You do not have to think about it because it is your thoughts, every breathe you take. It's the blade across the most tender parts of you, your stomach, arms, thighs, even your soul. But it doesn't go away, no matter how many therapists you see, or pills you take. It gets tiring after awhile, the pretending, the lying.
You only want the heaviness to leave, to disappear. You want to feel, to finally breathe. But sometimes it is only easier to fake more smiles, more laughs, to ignore the itch on your stomach and arms, to pretend.
