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Thursday, 15 July 2010

I can't tell you

It hurts. There are no metaphors or similes to twist the feeling into, to give it a meaning deeper than it already has - it just hurts. It aches and it stabs and it makes my head feel empty and light. It makes the world change, become less real. It's a little bit like a dream, the feeling in my head. But it still hurts. I can't change the hurt.

I don't know what it is and that irritates me. I know where it is, I can pin-point it almost exactly. I can tell you what happens when my heart beats faster than it should and what happens when the air refuses to fill my lungs. But I can't tell you what it is.

I can't tell you how much pain I feel or how tight my chest is and how cottony my throat feels. I can't give it metaphors or images. I can't compare it to something you'd understand. I can't tell you because I don't understand. And it irritates me. And I'm scared.

It hurts. And I can't turn it into a story. It isn't one.

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