The morning after

You have to get through it. You can’t let it ruin you. You just have to.

I know that some days you don’t feel like getting out of bed; you just don’t have the energy. At this point, your mind is at war, so you sit up. You take all that you have left and use it to search every empty corner for the slightest bit of motivation but return with nothing. Now you’re feeling it start to creep in. Slowly. You feel the emotions flowing through the veins under your skin and you wait for it, knowing that a train is about to hit. Your heart begins. It beats slowly but is gradually preparing itself for what it knows is yet to come. So you fall back down; you are well aware. So you’re silent while patiently bracing yourself, and before it arrives, it’s like a faulty tap dripping for the last time before it is no longer under control. It drips and drips and the next thing you know, your mind is racing, your heart is rushing and you no longer have control. You lose it. You lose it completely. Your thoughts blur. Some are clear, most aren’t. You stop breathing. Your chest aches. Your face burns. You plead and cry out for help. It hurts too much, you cry. Now you’re panting. Your lungs burn. You feel desperately weak, so you curl up and reach for something, anything, that can make the pain stop. You regain consciousness and realize you’ve stopped breathing, so you gasp for air like you’ve never gasped before, filling your lungs with life again and returning the reasons to your heart for circulating the blood of which fills your body. You start feeling lighter. The rain clouds leave and rainbows come out to see you, and you realize that although this is quite possibly the worst time of your life, you know that there is hope for those who mourn, for those who cry are those who grow.


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