Write

Why does it hurt?  I don't know exactly what it even is anymore, but I just know that it does.  Perhaps I'm looking back too much, perhaps I'm trying to see too far forward.  But it hurts.  And I don't know what to do about it because I can't say anything about it.  I can't even write about most of it.  Winter is hard.  Winter brings me back to some of the worst times I have put myself through.

One year ago, I remember where I was.  Four days after that, I know what happens and I still have the marks to prove it.  Why would I want to prove it?  I don't know.  I doubt I would, to anyone else, at least.  But no, that may have been because of someone, but it was never, ever, ever for anyone but myself.  I'd say I've been through hell and back, but that would be a lie.  I have put myself through hell, and that would perhaps approach the truth.

This brings me back to where I was then.  Everything was different.  I was different.  I don't want to go back to that.  But somehow, inexplicably, I feel as though a part of me is being drawn.  Maybe I have spent the past few weeks barely going a day without crying over one thing or another or anything else.  But that's not it.  I haven't broken.  And I am of the sort who needs to break. 

I need to break not only to feel whole, but to be whole.  I need to know that I can still put myself back together.  I haven't done that lately.  I haven't been able to.  I haven't been afforded the opportunity.  I hate knowing that, I hate being brought back to that point in my life, I hate realizing how much I hurt then and how much it makes me want to hurt now.

From a rational perspective, I don't want to hurt.  But some irrational, incomprehensible, entirely bitter part of me needs to hurt.  So here's some news...I'm still broken.  I'm better, I have been getting better, and things have hurt less.  But I am still not whole.  There are still pieces of me that I don't know how to put together, and one of those is digging into me right now.  So right now, I need to break.  I feel like I'm trying to find a way to do it no matter how much I don't want to. 

So instead of letting myself go, instead of breaking myself because I need to and I know I can, I'm writing.  I'm frantically pressing down on keys, hoping more than anything else that I won't drive myself back to where I was then.  It feels unreal to me that I am writing this.  It's hard to believe that this is true.  I don't know how I feel this or why.  I just know that I am still broken, and I want to fix it, and I don't know how.

All I can do is take a deep breath and let it pass.  It will be alright.  Eventually.