Silent Cry

“You ever just cried? I’m not taking about a “sad’ cry or am I talking about the “on the bathroom floor hanging on for dear life” crying. I’m talking about the silent cry, the one where you know everything is wrong, but you can’t say anything. The one where you’re holding in a secret that’s killing you to keep. I know that type of cry. You’re grasping your sides, stretching your mouth, hoping to make noise, but you can’t. Your eyes are so red and puffy you look high. You look like you’ve taken so many hits and your head hurts so bad, it’s like you’ve banged it against a brick wall, and maybe you do. Maybe you’re so distraught that you try to take the pain away by replacing it with a physical pain, but it’s different. It’s not masking the emotional pain and now, now you’re on the ground of a home you don’t remember with a needle sticking out of your veins and a cigarette in your left hand. You’re trying to remember how you got there, but you were always there, you never left. That’s what this silent cry feels like, it feels like the world has crashed down and killed you, and it has. You’re dead, you’ve been dead and guess what? There’s no going back, there never was.”

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