I know...
I know exactly how it feels.
I wish I didn’t.
But I do.

I know how it feels to wake up every morning and feel—
nothing.
Empty.
Numb.

It hurts more than you could imagine.

I know how it feels to have your heart so heavy.
You wanna scream,
And shout,
And cry...
But nothing comes out.

Only silence.
Deafening silence.

Nobody will listen.
“You’re fine.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“You’re fine.”
“You have no reason to be sad.”
“You’re fine.”
“You’re just having a bad day.”

They won’t listen.
They think they understand.
But they don’t.
They still don’t listen.

So you bleed.
And bleed.
And bleed.
Until there’s blood—
everywhere.

And suddenly,
you can feel again.

That numbness.
That emptiness.
That silence.
It’s all gone.

And all that’s left is—
Pain.
Hurt.
Blood.

You become addicted to the feeling.
The colour.
Like a drug.
You can’t stop.
You crave it.

It’s beautiful...
Because you can feel again.

So you scream.
And shout.
And cry.

And that’s when they start to listen.

They pretend they care.
They tell you to stop.
“You’ll be okay.”
“We’ll fix you.”

Empty words.
Empty promises.

They don’t care.
They don’t understand.
You don’t need fixing.
You’re not broken.

Because you can feel again.

So you keep bleeding.
And bleeding.
Again.
And again.
And again.

Until...
Silence.

Everything turns to black.
Peaceful,
Beautiful,
Silence.

Finally.
You can breathe.
You’re free.