Pained whimpers fill my otherwise silent room.
My eyes glaze over in tears.
I choke on sobs that I hold back, forcing them to blubber out in gasps, stuttered breaths and bubbles.
My surroundings blurs.
A cold crawls over me as my demons coo at me, wrapping their talons around my frail, vulnerable body.
My heart suddenly has a weight on it.
I fall to my knees; too weak to stand.
My hands crawl to my neck, and I echo a singular question, easy to say, but hard to answer when it implies to so much.
Why?
-D.
YOU ARE READING
No More Hiding
Non-FictionWhat's the point in hiding the truth? TRIGGER WARNING: -EATING DISORDERS. -DEPRESSION. -SELF-HARM. -SUICIDE. -ANXIETY. -HEARTBREAK. -ASSAULT. IF YOU FIND YOURSELF SENSITIVE OR EASILY TRIGGERED BY ANY OF THIS CONTENT, PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE. You have...
