I can be myself here. I can tell the truth and never have to say, "I'm fine." I can talk freely about it. About how even when I wake up some mornings and am content, I can still feel it tapping silently behind my heart. I know it is there, waiting for something, anything, the tiniest hiccup in my day to claw its way out and spread like cancer through the dark bits inside of me. It spreads from behind my heart, to my lungs (it's almost musical), it rushes to my head and then I am gone, rendered defenseless, helpless. People don't understand it. It's not an over reaction, it's losing a battle in a long dark war. I know, ultimately, I won't win this fight, I am already so tired. I know one day it will take me. My heart will decide it is time to stop pumping its poisons through my veins. That will be the day that people know, once and for all, that I wasn't as strong as they had thought. That will be the day that people will know that every time they asked how I was that the best I could do was spin lies, to grant them the freedom to doubt its existence. That will be the day that it finally decides to bleed me dry, the day that it decides I have become too dull and too lifeless to be important enough to resuscitate, the day it will finally free me from the dark and back into the light that I have missed so dearly.
Emotions are incomprehensible.
