The Never-Ending Cycle

Imagine having it all.

The perfect person you plan to spend the rest of your life with. The beautiful place you created to be home. The job that makes you feel like you’re actually achieving in life.

But none of it matters.

Because at the end of the day, there’s still a pit in the bottom of your stomach.

A big black hole.

An emptiness that no matter how hard you try, cannot be filled.

You laugh and smile but then your mind reminds you to not be joyful.

Is it because of that lie you told and you just feel so ashamed? Is it because you can’t let go of what that person did to you when you were 6 years old? Is it because everything good in your life has had an end to it and you just don’t want to get your hopes up?

It could be all of it. Or it could be just nothing.

You feel nothing or everything at once. So now you’re numb.

Numb to life and merely surviving instead of living.

Morning is too bright, too cheerful.

The afternoon drags along.

Nighttime is where the consumption begins.

The thoughts fly in like seagulls on a beach ready to attack their first victim.

Lying in bed, tossing and turning. Feeling helpless and unwanted. Not knowing who to call or where to go.

They said you were dramatic. They said it’s all in your head. They said it’ll get better. They said they said they said.

The thoughts in your head cloud your own voice that you can barely hear it telling you to just live.

Just one more day.

The urge to grab the piece of broken glass and place it on your already damaged skin seems like the only answer.

Maybe opening the medicine cabinet would be easier; that way when they find you it won’t be a mess.

But even the thought of wiping away your life makes you feel like a burden because there’s still the aftermath of it all.

The wailing of the woman who protected you in the womb for nine whole months. She falls to the floor grasping onto your handing begging you to wake up. Not knowing what she did to deserve this to happen to her

Your 5 year old sister standing in the door frame unable to take her big eyes off of the pale being lying on the ground. She cries because even though she’s young, she’s old enough to understand

It’s too much.

Too much to be here.

And too much to go.

Choosing to go leaves your loved ones with a lifetime of brokenness. Deciding to stay leaves you with a lifetime of brokenness.

So you stay. Trying to survive.