Playboy or Not? |m.yg [under editing]

031

I could hear the air moving through my  bronchioles like they were some kind of weird instrument. It was a wheezing really, squeaky and worrisome. I put my hand on my heart, the pain burning through my chest.

The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down my face. I feel the muscles of my chin tremble like a small child and I look toward the window, as if the light could soothe me. There is static in my head once more, the side effect of this constant fear, constant stress I live with. I hear my own sounds, like a distressed child, raw from the inside. It takes something out of me I didn't know I had left to give. That's the way it is when people are hard. It's like a theft of the spirit, an injury no other person can see.

My eyes drip with tears. My walls, the walls that hold me up, make me strong just... collapse. Moment by moment, they fall. Salty drops fall from my chin, drenching my shirt. I press my head against the wall. I'm trembling. I can't-can't stop. Even as I press my hand against the wall it shakes, it trembles. It's raw, everything, raw tears, raw emotions. I can't stop... I can't stop. Why can I not stop crying?

"Please, someone...save me"