REBRANDED

I’ve been yelling about the pain. Of the vicious cycle that my mind plays, each cycle getting shorter until everything that pains me is longer. And I’m yelling until I feel as though it is my last breath, and yet in agony I breath again.

And so death seems more comforting than the torture of my own cycles. Only I know it isn’t.

I know if i could just stop yelling and be heard with a whisper, I could just feel as though this weight isn’t mine alone.

But be heard how. How will I know I am understood? How will i know I have been heard?

When the language of my mind is mine alone. Silenced. Read only through my lips but never heard through my mind. No one can hear the yelling, nevermind the whispers. Part of me doesn’t understand it, I understand how it feels, but I don’t understand its origin. How this pain bloomed, how it has remained, seemingly forever in me. I don’t know if anyone can hear what I do not understand.

But I yell about it anyway, in hopes that someone can help me. But my throat is sore, my mind empty and my heart broken.