This Is For You Who Is Stuck In Your Pain

Woman with baby's breath flowers in her hair looking at a field
Larm Rmah / Unsplash

It still hurts, doesn’t it? When the curtain’s down and the lights are off when the crowd is quiet and you’re all alone; it starts to hurt. Or rather, it starts to hurt loudly. After a day of telling it to shut up, to keep to itself – to stop – your heart finally wants to be heard. After a day of smiling, of being fine, of being okay, it has had enough.

“I’m hurting,” it says, “I’m breaking and I want someone to hold me.”

Because it still hurts. And you know it. 

You come across something and it reminds you of what happened. A shirt. A place. A feeling. A person. Some days it’s bearable, but most days it gets bad. Most days, you’re over the edge. Defensive. Cautious. Fighting. Constantly trying to escape your mind. Continuously trying to find a way out. Always trying to be okay. But you never are.

Most days, you’re on the brim of breaking down. Most days, it gets so dreadful that you just wanna shout to the world.

“Someone save me.”
“Someone help me.”
“Someone be with me.”

But the worst days, the most dreadful ones, are when you’re alone – teary-eyed, quiet, lonely. When you’re just with your thoughts, that’s when it drives you insane. When it’s just you, that’s when the memories come back, the tears start to rise, and the anger starts to knock at your door, with fire in its eyes and pain in its heart. That’s when the truth starts to surface.

And the truth hurts like hell.

You have never been okay. You have never arrived at the place where everyone seems to be in. You haven’t gotten your peace. You’re still there, stuck in a loop of emotion, anger, pain, hate. You’re still there, with rage and melancholy as your company. You’re still there, with the words of goodbye and the broken promises as your friends.

Because even after all this time – after all the struggling, the fighting, the trying; after all the sorrow, the aching, the heartbreak – you’re just still there, and it seems you may never leave. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

I write, sometimes

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