I want to scream.
But I also want to curl up into a ball.
Make myself as small as possible.
Maybe then it wouldn’t feel so BIG.
I want to hurt people.
Those happy smiling people with not a care in the world.
I want to punch them.
Knock the wind out of them and say ‘see? THAT is what it feels like. That is what it is like to have your world torn apart.
Over and over and OVER again’
The initial shock.
The ‘what the fuck was that?’
And then the slow aching pain that becomes more and more intense until you just cannot handle it any more.
I want to punch those shiny happy people living their shiny happy lives.
I want to scream in their faces.
That deep gutteral primal scream.
That one that you can’t stop but is somehow cleansing.
But I can’t.
I have to go on and pretend that everything is fine.
Until the next time.
Like the times before.
Where my wounds are ripped open again with barely time to heal.
And because I cannot talk about it, I have to go on and be strong
And get up in the morning
Go to work.
Be a parent.
And a wife.
A daughter and a friend.
And pretend that I am not broken again.
I take the pills to take the edge off.
They barely touch the sides.
And I just scream on the inside.