been sick.

been sick again.  no fever, vomiting - not that kind of sick - but it did keep me in bed a lot.  when i get that kind of sick, i fight it as best i can as long as i can, 'acting as if' nothing's wrong, & even those closest to me don't have a clue unless i tell them - but most are tired of hearing it.  i mean, who wouldn't be?  those of us who get sick are tired of feeling it, tired of living it, & most times tired of talking about it anyway.  so it's best to just keep quiet & muddle through til you get to the other side - which most likely you will.

but sometimes, god sometimes you just ache to tell somebody how exactly damn dead you feel inside, how you don't care if you live another day, in fact, you really wish you wouldn't.  how hard it is to see any kind of future for yourself, how there ARE no more hopes & dreams in your heart, the favorite thing on your agenda is death, & the only thing on your bucket list is kicking it.  not suicide cos you're not that brave & you still care about loved ones, but an end to the pain, self-loathing, second-guessing, ugly hateful one that lives inside you.  the heaviness that comes w/little or no warning, stays as long as it damn well pleases, & clouds over your entire life.  you think i'm joking, being over-dramatic, but you don't know because it's never had you in it's grip to where the only thing you had left to give was up.  so you finally stop fighting & let it overtake you cos there's nothing you can do to stop it anyway, you've only been deceiving & wearing yourself out by trying.  the grey turns to black & the darkness brings comfort like a well worn blanket you've snuggled since childhood. 

that kind of sick. 

& maybe you know somebody who, oh if they'd just listen to you & do what you said you know they'd snap out of it but they don't even try & what you don't even realize is they've tried all they can but nothing's working & they're desperate to feel better; while your well intended words are like salt in an open wound.

yeah - been sick.
again.