This is where I will go to speak the unspoken.
All these words I cant bring myself to say out loud

I'll lay them to rest here.




This is your last chance to stop. I cant take back what comes next.

. T R I G G E R . W A R N I N G .

The thoughts and words contained in this blog are intended for mature audiences only. It will be raw and honest; a livewire organic portrait with layers of depression and (hopefully) healing. This space will showcase the navigation through some of the more difficult parts of life that many may find troublesome to speak or read about. It will put on display a wide range of emotions very likely influenced by the day-to-day of an average, flawed life. Please only read on if you feel you can handle it. Do what is best for your own head space first, foremost, and always. 

~Unspoken

There isnt a place where I can go and unburden the weight from my chest. There isnt a way for me to say all that is spilling over with no where left to go. So I find myself here. Sinking. The waves keep crashing over my head and I cant stay surfaced long enough for a full breath of air to fill my lungs. Short gasps. That's what I'm reduced to. And if that's all I'll ever get for the rest of my days, I'll suffer in silence. Because the loss of that last little piece isn't something I think I could ever truly endure. 

I cant turn back time and fix every mistake I've ever made in my life.
but I also know that I can never hope to undo all that is you. 

I feel the lick from a invisible flame so familiar I almost forget that it isnt my own. It brushes against my skin sometimes so naturally that it feels like nothing more than an afternoon breeze. Some days it's a needed warmth, soothing the hurt where the chill of untouched skin has settled deep into my bones. Other days it's just uncomfortable; an ache or an itch where I swear I can feel the singe marks from where only you once existed. And then other days.. The bad ones.. It's like an inferno. And all I can taste is the smokey haze as it swallows me whole from the inside out, smothering my lungs with a grip so tight I cant see straight. My eyes are full, spilling out with no end in sight. I cant stop it- and part of me doesnt want to. It's the only time I feel something close to what I used to. It engulfs me in wave after relentless wave of a phantom heat that I know I'll never actually feel again. And it goes for hours.. And hours.. and hours.. until I'm so numb I cant move. 

Equal parts of me pray the sun rises and saves me from the dark,
but also that it never rises... Because it's not the sun's warmth I long for.

Those are the days that feel like my undoing.
Where each breath feels like I'm just inhaling nails and thumb tacks.

But then... The sun still rises the next morning, sleep or no sleep. I pull myself into the shower, again, and paint my face, as I have a million days before, pretending like it isnt already raw and sore, battle worn from the night before. Another day void of the only comfort I seek in a crowded room. I put my smile on like armor and walk through the hours like the perfectly poised persona that I'm supposed to be. 

Is it even working?

~Always~
U N S P O K E N