I can be myself here. I can tell the truth and never have to say, "I'm fine." I can talk freely about it. About how even when some mornings and I'm content, I can still feel it tapping silently behind my heart. I know it's there, waiting for something, anything, the tiniest hiccup in my day to claw it's way out and spread like cancer through the dark bits of me. It spreads from behind my heart, to my lungs (it's almost musical), it rushes to my head and then I am gone, rendered defenseless, helpless. People don't understand it. It's not an over reaction, it's losing a battle in a long dark war. I know, ultimately, I won't win this fight, I am already so tired. I know one day it will take me. My heart will decide it is time to stop pumping it's poisons through my veins. That will be the day that people will know, once and for all that every time they asked how I was that the best I could do was spin lies, to grant them the freedom to doubt it's existence. That will be the day that it finally decides to bleed me dry, the day it decides I have become too dull, to lifeless, to be too unimportant enough to resuscitate, the day it will finally free me from the dark and back into the light that I have missed so dearly...
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