Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey

This flavorless sticking of your tongue against the back of your throat.

Even breathing gets to the point where all you taste and all you feel is the stale toxicity of those around you.

You smile and it just doesn’t quite reach your eyes and yet still they fault you for being polite even when your insides are raging in violent turmoil.

They don’t care. And you try to pretend that you don’t care that they don’t care but that still doesn’t stop it from hurting.

Even with the distance they have placed between you and them you can still hear the whispers and feel their eyes crawling across your skin, like spiders, but the venom their words carry are far deadlier.

You breathe, in and out, nice and slow, to try and calm your racing heart but with every beat and with every breath you feel that bitterness more and more.

You taste it more and more.

But they don’t care and it hurts because nobody believes you and you breathe and you smile and you try so very hard not to let the bitterness consume you but...What’s the point?

There is bitterness in the silence of suffering.

And I have suffered so deeply and so quietly that my body is weary and my bones ache with a pain that my soul itself feels.

I am exhausted. But still I smile and wash my mouth with soap like when I was a child in trouble for saying something I shouldn’t because it’s their word against mine and who would believe me?

There is s”i”lence in suffering.