Gasping for Air

I woke up this morning disappointed. Disappointed to be present, conscious and aware.

I’m aware of everything I’ve ever lost. I’m conscious of every bit of hurt I’ve ever experienced, as it culminates into one moment – one giant swirling hurricane of pain, hopelessness and despair. I’m present, to watch my life disappear before my very eyes, to feel it fall through my grasp like sand.

I’m broken. My heart. My body. My mind. My soul.

I haven’t decided if I want to be here anymore. Everything is so twisted up inside of me that the only comfort is in things that no longer are real, or in the idea that I don’t have to suffer through all of this again. And again. And again.

Be strong, they say. You’re amazing, they write. Come home, they beg. Come back.

I listened once before, suffered through five years of horror to be made to feel alive and then to be right back here. I feel only broken and empty, like my heart and soul have been ripped out of my body and smothered, left on the floor, gasping for air.

I don’t know whether to breathe or let go.