And how is it that I am supposed to live in this cold world for however many years are left with the absolute knowledge that a mere feeling can **** me?
Are my days numbered, and I cannot see it? I began to wonder that
As soon as I could think again.
Because my first thought beyond the pain was, "If this ever happens again I won't have the strength to survive it twice."
I thought I'd regain it, you know?
Recharge
Like a battery.
I thought that time might replenish what I had depleted in myself in order to continue breathing.
But I find,
Shockingly,
Nearly two years later that I am just as fragile underneath,
That the loss has lessened none.
My energy is still sapped, my soul still brittle,
And I am afraid
Afraid with every fiber of my being
Because this happened once,
And I felt the certainty in my gut that it could ONLY happen once,
That I would not survive it a second time.
And I thought that would change, if years were to pass.
I thought I would again become durable enough to take such a fall
And be so fragmented.
But I'm not. I'm just... not.
I am different. I always hated myself for the weakness of my heart
And lo and behold, it is even weaker than it was
And it appears that nothing builds it back up.
I am still as certain as the day I crawled to my knees finally
That if it were to happen again to any extent
It truly would **** me.
I am DANGEROUSLY exposed, still,
Like a raw nerve. So easily damaged. My god, I am defenseless.
If this happens again, that's it for me.
How ******* STUPID is that? That I have never tried to **** myself,
Never even let myself want to,
Through all the **** and against all the odds,
And yet I might still die-
Maybe even SOON!-
Of a ******* feeling
And have no say in it whatsoever.