I Feel This Again

What do you do with the brokenness that resides in your deepest corners. How do you stop the jagged edges of the mirror which reflected your innocence from ripping your innards. You try not to move. You try to keep very still so that maybe, just maybe, everything will settle. All the pieces will fall back into place and you'll regain what has been lost. You believe that if you do this, the hurt from all the cuts will slowly subside, scab over, and finally become forgotten. However, this is impossible. When you focus so hard on not moving, it makes you itch for the world. It makes your heart restless with wonder for the what ifs. You think to yourself, "I've sat still for long enough. My insides must be whole again. I've served my time and now I can experience all the beauty I've been missing." Then you take a leap. Or rather, a breath. You inhale with all your might, filling your lungs to the brim with the world that has passed you by in your stillness. And slowly, carefully, you let it out again. You get to the end of your exhale and every bit of the newness you just took in has escaped once more. That very second, that very moment when everything is once again mundane, the pain comes back like never before. You feel it first in your lungs, shredding their inner lining and tearing them open so that the blood flows throughout you. It bathes your stomach in it's liquid red fury, makes it crumple in upon itself with the weight of all your regrets, and shrivels it with the poison of hatred. And finally, your heart begins to weaken, slowing down its beat because there is no passion to keep it going. Everything has come back. Every hurt. Every longing. Every negative word. Every abusive intention targeted towards you. Every jealousy that makes your thoughts scream with anger. All of a sudden you begin to fall and spiral down towards that darkness that you promised yourself you would never ever reach for again. The weakness of your soul consumes you and your eyes close towards everything around you no matter what amazing sights you may behold. And the only thing you feel you can possibly do is resort back to that stillness to start the healing again. You convince yourself that it will work this time, all you have to do is try harder. So you go back to your corner, though your conscience is screaming for you to go fucking be what you really are, and you become that still being lingering in the shadows again. The one that no one notices. The one that bothers no one. The one that isn't really alive.