It's deeper than a scratch. It catches my breath to the point that I sometimes choose not to breathe. Amidst the dull ache, there are sudden glimpses of reality which jolts me back to life. Even then the numbness remains. The trapped soul in the lifeless body that in a false glimmer of hope tries to co-exist but as soon as a cold breeze blows, it shatters to a heap of sharp shards. Cutting the limp drained exterior from within. Through the thick cloak of numbness.
I closed my eyes. I shut out the world. I lied still. I breathed as little as I could. But I still breathed. Even if they were shallow occasional attempts. I don't know why. But I still breathed. So it hurts. The cold searing thrusts that I imagined would end it all didn't and rhythmically persisted instead. The grazes of injury boldly aired. Veiled only by a mask of apathy. The very core of my existence being sheared silently yet surely.
It hurts. More than I'd like to admit. And as long as I continue to breathe, it'll hurt.
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