Feeling a pressure on your chest.
On your heart.
As if someone is pushing in and they won't stop.
The pressure becomes more intense.
Your whole chest is hard.
It stiffens, it's tight.
The pressure deepens.
The hands that were once pressing down on you are now around your neck.
You're trying to breathe but every breath you take ***** the lightness out of you.
Breathing makes it worse.
It means you're here but just barely holding on.

He's standing next to me now.
Just close enough for me to hear each pounding beat of his heart and feel the breeze of his breath.
With each inhale he takes it feels like he's ******* the life right out of me.
I become breathless.
I'm gasping just waiting for him to exhale so I can finally breathe again.
With each exhale I'm relieved of the pressure in my chest as if he's manually pumping my blood through my veins with his hands.
With each exhale I feel the warmth of his breath.
It is sticky and hot,
but he has a way of sending chills down my spine as he whispers icy cold words down my neck.

Do you ever feel halfway between happy and sad and you can never feel one emotion completely? Or when you should be happy and you are happy but you can't get rid of the looming sadness that's in you and it just makes you feel worse because you're like, "There's no reason I should be sad."

If you want to talk to me about the numbness in my heart, I wont have an answer. I don't have a reason to why I am the way I am. No I haven't been through a traumatic event and No I haven't had my heart broken. But right now... I already feel like it is broken. Most nights I hardly sleep because I can't stop thinking about what it would actually feel like to feel more than just the numbness that lingers in me. I am numb but numb and fine are the same.

Fire makes me feel.
It warms my soul.
With each dancing flame that resembles my demons, I can watch them flicker away and come back in a flash to haunt me,
but I will always know that they will keep me warm and give me light
even on my darkest days.
It is a beautifully destructive powerful force that I cannot wait to be burned and branded by.
I want it to consume me and leave me burned with passion.
Feel the intensity of its power.
Letting me know that I'm still alive.
As my flesh burns and my skin is scorched with each spark and flame.
Leaving me with pink and red tender wounds.

It's weird because I feel an icy chill in my veins and through out my body but I have this attraction to fire.
I love fire.
The flames are so mesmerizing.
I just cant get enough of it.
I ould stare at a fire for hours.
I think it's my body internally searching for the warmth and power that I lack.

Take a sip to feel the sweet release.
The push the shove
I need it
To finally be calm.
Anything to make it last.
A slave to substance.
Trying to hold onto the sweetest feeling.
Bruising too easily to just be laid out.
Here's the day I thought would never come.
I need you more than I'd like to admit.
Take my life and hold it with your hand.
I just need your touch, just want to be by your side.
Free my soul.
Because I'm drowning in an abyss, suffocating with my last breath, bleeding with every beat of my heart.
My hands hurt like wilted flowers and my legs can't hold me as fragile stems.
I have weakness in my knees as they buckle underneath me.
But these are the words unsaid
And now
My forgotten soul is lost at sea and a storm is coming.
Waves are crashing down.
I'm left with nothing but the echoes of the memories of our forgotten past.
The shadows of the sea take me under until nothing remains in sight.
I'm left feeling a heavy fog in my chest and blood on the tip of my tongue.
I try to scream but I'm dried out.
There is no escape.
Everything fades as I drift to the bottom.
The ocean floor swallows me and with each crashing wave I'm buried deeper under the sand.
I'm covered in sand and it drags me down.
I can't breathe.
I'm suffocating.
The water holds me still but has no affect on me.
The words unsaid are what I'm choking on.
As I try to gasp for my last breath I'm pulled under.
Everything spirals out of control.
And as I lay motionless and
paralyzed
I wonder,
Wonder what it would have been like if the truth was
Spoken.

It's taking over my life.
It's taking control of me.
I give into its wishes.
I listen to its commands.
It declares my every move.
I'm a puppet and it's my master
holding the strings,
holding the reins to my life
It dominates me.
It restrains me.
It keeps me paralyzed.
But I can't ask for help.
Asking for help admits defeat.
I can never admit defeat.
Defeat means weakness.
Weakness means I'm powerless.
When I'm powerless,
I'm,
     hopeless.

Blue and indigo lines.
Dark as ink.
Drowning in blood with pain.
With the pounding and drum of each heart beat, more pain is released into the system.
Flowing calmly but with intensity and pure passion.
The streams are in a tangled path. Leaving behind a strangled mess.
The throbbing continues with every breath.
Echoing against the very soul of your being.
The blues and purples reach the surface as each new tender bruise is revealed.

His chest rises and falls with every breath he takes.
He lays there motionless.
Paralyzed.
As if he is rooted to the ground.
With each breath the intensity and urgency to be freed becomes apparent. She notices.
She forces the grass to wrap around every inch of his body.
Pulling him closer to the center.
How does she know the ways to strangle someone without using her hands.
He struggles to break free but is left feeling a dense fog in his chest.
He is now gasping for air.
She becomes amused toward his defiance.
But she begins to worry.
She can still feel the warmth of his breath as it clashes with hers.
She sends the winds on him.
The wind's curiosity is aroused.
The harshness of the breeze and crispness of the air bites and ****** at his skin.
He turns pink with the intensity of each breath she releases.
The blue and the purple and the numbness of his being have never been so amplified.
Every inch crawls with frost.
His skin is no longer pink but a deep shade of red.
He is rigid.
Breathing in her breath he is left choking on death.
The winds know what's next.
The winds know everything.
They blow across the world without a birthplace, and no place to die.
They leave him trembling.
He comes still.
There is no more warmth clashing with the cold chill of her breath as she breathes slowly moving the mountains as he once did with his chest.