Music was blasting through my small speaker. It isn't actually really loud but it bounced off the walls of the small room, like my thoughts.
I was so numb. My fingers were tingling. My legs trembling. My back painful. I couldn't feel my face or neck anymore, only the cold tiled floor and the throbbing feeling in my chest.
Remember when a racing heart meant love? and excitement? and adrenaline? Remember when a racing heart meant something great was going to happen? I do. I loved it. I yearned for it, but now, I dread it.
Now, it meant bad things, terrible things. It meant horrible thoughts, painful truths. It meant numbness. It meant nausea. It meant breathlessness.
I couldn't breathe at that point. It was so hard. I always found myself holding my breath. I couldn't breathe steadily. It was just random gasps of air every now and then. It made my chest hurt. It hurt.
The walls of the bathroom felt like they were closing in on me, but I couldn't leave. I couldn't stay in my bedroom. There were too many ears, too many eyes. There were too many witnesses.
Then, I felt the burn at the back of my throat, and I scrambled to get up and bent over. Finally. I've been waiting for that. As gross as it is, I wanted that to happen because it meant me letting it out somehow.
I thought it was over. I had finally let it out. That's where it's supposed to end, right? But, it didn't.
It didn't end there. It won't end there. At this point, I don't think it ever will.
YOU ARE READING
Musing
RandomShort essays, maybe even poetry. This isn't a love story written in rhymes or narratives. This is the story that everyone goes through. In this, you will find 2am thoughts, tears, rants, good bye's, and hello's. You will find the little things I lea...
