“Pain demands to be felt,” wrote John Green.
But dearest,
THIS is not what he meant.
Pain is not felt through drugs, sex and self-harm.
Pain is created through these things.
They are a guise for the turmoil beneath.
They say, “Without pain, how can we know joy?”
He said, “The existence of broccoli doesn’t, in any way,
affect the taste of chocolate.”
I don’t think anybody ever told you that,
because then maybe you wouldn’t be where you are
right now.
Sixth hospital visit?
Sweetheart,
this isn’t working.
You can’t mask this internal torture
with chemicals or hide the
damage inside with external scars to match.
It seems like the easiest choice:
a way to avoid facing the fear
building up inside.
The wall has grown so high that you can no longer
see over it.
You no longer care what’s over there.
Here is where the anguish lies.
The greener pastures on the other side
no longer exist in the remnants of your
memory of it.
For all that pertains to you,
the emptiness is all that exists.
Maybe they’ll be able to fix you up
where you’re going.
You’ll come back, seeing just a bit more
of that greener other side
through a hole in that wall,
crumbling.
---
Wattpad, darling, why the weird spacing?
YOU ARE READING
Struggle and Strive
SpiritualPart 3 in the "Contemplative Compositions" series. This is where I put my every random thought that may or may not deserve to be emblazoned on your screen. (In this edition I will probably also post some prose/flashfiction from a blog I'm writing w...