pain

#1

Pain.
It's murderous. It rips us apart from the inside out, slowly shattering our souls and breaking our hearts. Pain is a weapon wielded by us all. We all hold it in our palms, ready to strike. It walks us down a long, dark path, gripping our hands, tugging us along. Pain can be caused by anyone, in many ways, it can be a small sting or a sword through our hearts. Either way, depending on the person hurting us, we could die.

Life is filled with pain, life is pain. We are all suffering, in some way, and if you're not right now, you will. Some of us push the pain aside and act strong, some of us succumb to it and let ourselves fall, while others, like myself, walk with the pain. We hold its hand and stalk through the darkness, waiting patiently for it to run away, or for someone to free us from its tight grip. We walk through the dark, mysterious trees and listen to the numbing silence that it leaves in our chest. However, until the light comes from the shadows, we allow the darkness to suffocate us.

The darkness is painful, but we feel nothing. The silence is an ear-shattering noiselessness, turning our brains to goo. The worst part, however, is the sudden blindingly bright light, and strange uproar of emotions. After pain, after the numbness, you feel everything, the heartbreak that crushes your chest and grips your lungs, the burning that crawls your skin and caresses your mind. The soul-destroying hatred, the mind-boggling confusion that leaves you spinning in circles.

Once the pain ends, one it fades into a bliss sea of forgotten tears, we feel monstrous after effects. The strange loneliness, while we're surrounded by people, the heart-wrenching invisibility. It's not invisibility though, that would be too easy. No. It's too simple, too kind to call us invisible, instead, we should say that were painfully visible, and entirely ignored. Nobody really sees your pain, unless you shout it to the world, they see your plastered on smiles and assume that you're okay. When in reality, you're a pit of never-ending darkness, eating away at your own confidence and tearing away any happy thoughts you might have.

Then, something happens. You'll meet someone, you'll find something that grabs onto you and tells you that they're not going to let the deadly being, drag you through the forest anymore. They say that they have their own path, and they take us with them. After a while, we get used to the new path, the new surroundings, with the bright light at the end. We start to feel comfortable, we start to smile and laugh, and soon, the sea of tears calms and we can float on peaceful waters. We feel... happy. It's strange for a while, it makes us feel vulnerable as the dark forest blurs and we're surrounded by a field of beautiful flowers. It doesn't matter if we walk separately or hand in hand because as long as we stick to the path, the pain can't get to us. As much as it screams and scratches at us, we can hold it back. Until they pull out their weapon of choice, their gun, knife, rope, whatever it is they choose to break you with. They stop walking, so you follow. They lift their weapon, you back away, hitting the edge of the path as their face contorts into a wicked smirk, devilish and terrifying. They push you until the barrier can no longer hold you, then they shoot, stab, hang... and you fall. You fall into a seemingly never-ending hole of darkness, falling, falling, falling, deeper and deeper but never hitting the ground.

Soon, the darkness returns and pain wraps itself around your feather body as you drown in an overflowing flood of salty tears, leaving you breathless and tired. Your eyes feel heavy and your head soon follows. You pray, to whoever is listening, that you can get out of it alive, that you will survive. You pray that they'll send someone to numb the constant burning, as you sit alone and gorge away your feelings. Then you slowly succumb to the dark abyss because dancing with death is easier than walking with agony. You slowly slip in and out of consciousness, your body stained red with the wine of the grim reaper. Leaving you to watch your life on replay, remembering all the pain. Pain. It's murderous. It rips us apart from the inside out, slowly shattering our souls and breaking our hearts. Pain is a weapon wielded by us all. We all hold it in our palms, ready to strike.

His choice of weapon was simple, his words, although he might've just handed me the blade. His soul-crushing words, his heartbreaking lies, deafening me as I watched him laugh. He played with my emotions, tugged at my strings, he helped me climb the ladder, then he pushed me down. I thought we were friends, I thought we were family. Trust is a very valuable thing, you should only give it to the people who you know will look after it, and if they don't, then they never deserved it anyway.

He didn't just break my trust, he shattered it into a million pieces. When you have no one left, when everyone you have ever loved, cared for, leaves you to fall, who do you turn to? I turned to a blade, silver and sharp. I watched the warmth flow, showing the beauty within. I saw the stars dance, I heard the moon sing and after that, I was at peace. The darkness was no longer suffocating, instead, it was peaceful. It held me gently, soothing all my cracks and imperfections, leaving me with pure beauty.

Although, it didn't last long. Before I could get comfortable, a bright light grabbed me viciously and ripped me from my peace, leaving me broken and confused. The beeping from beside me, the bright lights and wires leading from my arms all felt wrong, they felt too real. The people and blurred voices spoke, waving their hands in front of my face. I didn't respond, how could I? They saved me from peace and placed me in a fate worse than death... life.

Life is filled with pain, life is pain. We are all suffering, in some way and if you're not right now, you will. I am suffering, this won't help, nothing helps. Not when I'll just go back to the same old routine, not when this will just happen all over again in three months. I will die. I will let the darkness love me. The warmth of the chilling depth of a neverending promise is something I want, need. That is, until he captivated me, his heavenly voice and eyes that made the moon jealous. Best of all, though, he understood because he was, too, scarred from the grip of pain. The grip of life.

The cycle starts again. Maybe it will end differently this time, or not. See you in three months.