seconds after it happens you will feel nothing; a numbness that somehow hurts more than anything. it will start in your chest, as a grey mist clenches your groaning heart and surrounds your lungs; like a life jacket it will keep you from drowning, while forcing your head underwater until you can no longer bear it. letting you up to breathe for a split second, then pushing you back under. torture. your thoughts will stop dead. your mind will tell you that the world is wrong, your heart will insist that you are not broken…
they are both lying.


years after it happens you will remember the pain, the scars will still paint your skin, but they will no longer sear through you, raised and angry; instead they will be relics of an old memory. in life, you will hurt, but you will carry on. and that, my dear,
is how you will survive