Then it hits again. Like my chest is filled with stones. Making me lower my already fragile body to the ground. It’s an ache, not a pain. It’s intense, burning stronger with every breath.
Is this the last time? Hopefully.
It doesn’t make you stronger, only weaker. Everytime it reduces your capacity to fight it. To bury it. To move on. No one can help. Because no one feels what you do.
Only you.
