Shitty things happen for a reason.
Shitty things happen, because that's life.
People say it's life because it's the truth.
If you don't suffer, then it's not life.
If it's not the truth, then you don't suffer.
How fucked up is that?
You can be surrounded by so many friends. You can be surrounded by so many family members. You can be surrounded by the love of your life and you know what's still fucked up?
You can still be dead inside.
When you smile, you cover up the fact that you're sad.
When you laugh, you cover up the fact that you're in pain.
It's what we do isn't it?
We hide and hide, never telling people what we feel. Never telling anyone that all we want to do, is put a stop to it.
Then the crippling feeling starts.
The cold, heavy, grating feeling of dread and hopelessness and everything.
It weighs on your heart like a ton of bricks.
It twists your chest until you can't breath.
It hurts because it hurts and you don't know why.
Why does it hurt?
So you try to write it down.
You try to figure out what's making you feel this way.
Was there a trigger point?
Was there an event that made you like this?
But that was so long ago, why would you be thinking about this now?
Why would your mental and physical health be affected by something that happened to you, years ago?
You don't know.
And that's when the crying starts. The muffling screams, the fumbling sobs.
That's when you start and that's when you can't stop.
You can't stop for the life of you.
So you cry and cry.
Until there's nothing left.
And even when you do stop, even when the sobs ceased.
You're still in pain.
You're still, sad.
No one would ever know.
Because you're just too afraid to tell them.
~With Love, anonymous