by farrahdomid

“What does it feel like?”

“I think about that all the time. I don’t even really know how to answer that, though. I’ve heard it described as getting punched in the gut, but that’s not…that’s not how I would describe it. It’s just…a constant churning of sadness in the pit of your stomach. You don’t really notice it’s there because you go on about your life and your activities, but the second you even smell something that brings you back to that place, it’s over. Over time, you get the hang of it, but it’s a process. It just feels really bad, you know? Like, yesterday, there was a whole person there. They were alive and they were laughing with you, they were yelling at you and making you feel like shit, and out of nowhere, there’s this eerie silence that you can’t seem to understand. You know, you call them and call them and listen to their stupid voicemail because one day, they’re going to pick up. They’re going to tell you that it was all a really mean joke and they’ll be at your house in an hour. But that’s just the hope talking. I think there’s some self-hate in there too. Some sick need to torture yourself because if you actually loved yourself, you’d force yourself to face the truth.

“And what’s your truth?”

“I’m really sad. And I think that’s the only real feeling I’ll have for a while. “