You know that night.
When you feel completely alone.
When oxygen feels heavy, your chest is collapsing and you can't breathe anymore.
The darkness is a weight.
Chaining you up and pulling you down.
The space around you is an unknown, dangerous and spiteful.
There is no comfort only reminders of your pain.
Your ribs crack under the pressure and you can't stave off the pain.
You're cold, and you won't warm up.
You're broken and you won't heal.
You're dying and you'll never recover.
Your bones ache and your muscles pull apart.
Its a cold, harsh, reality, bringing forth everything you hate about yourself.
Driving you to find anything to quell the pain. But you're frozen.
Stuck in the misery so deep in your headspace that you can't return, waiting for the release of sleep.
The black behind your eyelids is a shield. A flimsy paper shield.
But its all you have.
A search for something.
Anything.
Tearing skin under a blade, or a puff of a cigarette.
Youre coping, you say.
As if you don't hope you cut too deep, or the smoke gives you cancer.
Youre find, you say, as if every night you don't lay awake and wish you were dead.
That you'd never wake up.
The despair wells up.
Tears fall. Youre helpless.
You always have been.
And then the sun rises. And you pretend to rise with it. Leaving your heart and soul lying in bed, chained down until your body joins them again in the night.
That night of eternity.
- M. M. Bee
