I find myself retreating deeper and deeper as the time goes
by. Unknowing what will happen when I take that final step and fall. My lungs
and heart cave into the emptiness that fills my chest. I am borderline living,
unconscious to the most subtle movements and emotions. Every breath takes more
of me than I have to give. They say that time heals all wounds, however; the
physical can heal to a faint scar, emotional is replaced to feel whole again,
and the mental never goes away but is more forgotten. The wound I have has not
become a scar, has not been replaced and has never been forgotten. The wound I
have won’t heal over time, the wound I have cannot heal over time. Unsure of
what the exact wound is. Covered in blood the source is unknown. I am going on
the pain that pulsates through my body: the pain is at every nerve ending,
every muscle, and every bone. The worst part of the pain is that it is
imaginary.