Sometimes I ask myself, why? Why do I get to eat and be clothed when others can't? Why do I get an easy life when others are suffering? Why? When I see those who are denied what they truly need, their pain festers like a blackened wound in my chest. It pierces through the concrete placed around my heart. The concrete with the very purpose of keeping my broken and shattered heart from breaking again. The same concrete already worn down by a tidal wave of pain and rage. It becomes too much sometimes. So I try to distract myself from my own mind. To keep myself from wandering into the dark recesses of my brain. To stop myself from falling into the abyss that is my subconscious. Terrified that my battered, tired wings won't be able to hold my own weight. Afraid of the drop that is always just one step away. But the pain, the sadness, the rage. It keeps coming back. Like a fighter that won't stop hitting his opponent even though he's already down. Ripping me apart piece by piece until I am shattered into oblivion. Eventually it fades, but it never truly goes away. And I'm just waiting for the day when somebody asks me if I'm okay, that I'll be able to tell the truth and say no.
I FEEL so much it HURTS.
I am so in tune to others SUFFERING, I feel PAIN.
