“Here she is, all mine, trying her best to give me all she can. How could I ever hurt her? But I didn’t understand then. That I could hurt somebody so badly she would never recover. That a person can, just by living, damage another human being beyond repair.” - Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun
I feel like my chest is about to explode – I can’t sleep. I can’t talk. I can eat. I can’t think. Lot of emotions are running through my chest and I can’t seem to let it out. Like, if I don’t write it down and figure it out one by one, my chest and head are gonna split open.
What the fuck just happened? I kept asking this question over and over again. Is this gonna be another KC-and-a-bottle-of-tequila-sessions? Or the KC-with-her-car-far-far-away?
“I DON’T CARE!” Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace.“I’VE HAD ENOUGH, I’VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON’T CARE ANYMORE!” “You do care,” said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. “You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.” ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
I thought I’ve grown numb of all this crap. I thought I can handle it, or that I don’t care as much. Because that’s the only way so I won’t breakdown. That’s the only way so I won’t get hurt. But all this strong facade and keeping up a straight face persona are all bullshit and has garnered all the crap in the world. I just want this to end. I want this pain to end. But how? How am I supposed to let it go when my alter-ego knows for a fact that this is what I needed to FEEL alive, to BE alive once more. That this is essential as to breathing. Tell me, how can you force yourself to stop breathing?