Spilled Tea

Pushing Through

I'm pushing through it.
Through the
undefined longing
for something
I can't put a name to,
the burning pain inside of me,
the anxiety,
the cold sweating.
I'm thriving in life
more than the years
before now.
As much as I am forced
into the reality of 'today,'
I'm begging something,
or someone,
to reach inside of me
and take whatever is bleeding
out for a minute.
There are nights
filled with unhealthy food,
discussions of things
many refuse to mention,
and unspoken things
I'll regret later.
I'm pushing through it.
These times make the longing
inside of me dull slightly.
But I'll wake up the next morning
with a swollen lip
or some kind of guilt.
Maybe both.
Once again,
I'm back to pushing through it.