Tyloric
Illogical Process of Elimination
- Joined
- Oct 23, 2008
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Pain is Everything
Pain is Everything
by Tyloric
by Tyloric
It hurts. I can’t see past this pain. It’s everywhere. In my head, in my chest, my arms, my legs. I can’t quell it this time. It won’t go away.
It’s coming in waves now. Some days are worse than others. Some days I can see past it, go on like nothings wrong. Sometimes I hardly even notice it, to the point I can trick my self into thinking I’m getting better. But I’m not. I’m not getting better. This pain isn’t going away, it’s just inconsistent.
It hurts in my chest, the most. A pressure inside me, wanting to burst, making me want to scream. It travels down into my stomach and makes me want to vomit. Then it finds its way into my head and suddenly I feel it everywhere, suddenly everything hurts. The pain is all I know.
It’s excruciating.
I go about day to day doing things that suppress it some. Go to gatherings, go to a drive, spend the day with a friend. I even talk about it a bit. These things help, for a while at least.
But it always comes back. Always makes me want to be sick, and sometimes I am.
It shouldn’t hurt this much, not anymore. It went away last time. It started out like this but eventually it went away, soothed itself, the fires died. But these fires are growing. Growing to fast. They’re consuming me. Everything about me is dying, I can feel it. Withering, crumbling away.
My smiles are hallow, there is no happiness there.
My laughing is a lie, meant to fool you into thinking I’m happy.
I’m sick. I know I am. And I’m getting sicker.
That’s new. I usually get better, but not this time.
I want to cry for help, but I know it won’t come.
I want to talk about it more, but there are no more words to say.
This isn’t love. We’ve never met, it can’t be. Love requires two parties with mutual feelings.
This isn’t infatuation. It can’t be. It wouldn’t hurt this much if it was. I would be able to look away from it by now.
This isn’t addiction. I can avoid it. I don’t crave them. I don’t want them. I want to lose them, to forget them. Make the pain stop.
The only thing that I can think to describe it is torture. Absolute torture.
Please, burn me alive.
Shoot me.
Kill me.
Anything but this.
Just make the pain stop. Please.
------
Yeah... pretty sure I'm going to hell when I die.
This was a fun one to write. <3
It’s coming in waves now. Some days are worse than others. Some days I can see past it, go on like nothings wrong. Sometimes I hardly even notice it, to the point I can trick my self into thinking I’m getting better. But I’m not. I’m not getting better. This pain isn’t going away, it’s just inconsistent.
It hurts in my chest, the most. A pressure inside me, wanting to burst, making me want to scream. It travels down into my stomach and makes me want to vomit. Then it finds its way into my head and suddenly I feel it everywhere, suddenly everything hurts. The pain is all I know.
It’s excruciating.
I go about day to day doing things that suppress it some. Go to gatherings, go to a drive, spend the day with a friend. I even talk about it a bit. These things help, for a while at least.
But it always comes back. Always makes me want to be sick, and sometimes I am.
It shouldn’t hurt this much, not anymore. It went away last time. It started out like this but eventually it went away, soothed itself, the fires died. But these fires are growing. Growing to fast. They’re consuming me. Everything about me is dying, I can feel it. Withering, crumbling away.
My smiles are hallow, there is no happiness there.
My laughing is a lie, meant to fool you into thinking I’m happy.
I’m sick. I know I am. And I’m getting sicker.
That’s new. I usually get better, but not this time.
I want to cry for help, but I know it won’t come.
I want to talk about it more, but there are no more words to say.
This isn’t love. We’ve never met, it can’t be. Love requires two parties with mutual feelings.
This isn’t infatuation. It can’t be. It wouldn’t hurt this much if it was. I would be able to look away from it by now.
This isn’t addiction. I can avoid it. I don’t crave them. I don’t want them. I want to lose them, to forget them. Make the pain stop.
The only thing that I can think to describe it is torture. Absolute torture.
Please, burn me alive.
Shoot me.
Kill me.
Anything but this.
Just make the pain stop. Please.
------
Yeah... pretty sure I'm going to hell when I die.
This was a fun one to write. <3