Pain and Prison

I wish there were words to describe this. But there are not. I cannot even think of a metaphor...and I'm usually pretty good at that.

But this time I can't think of a single word besides pain and that word is so inadequate. It comes from the inside and the outside, like I'm being crushed.

I cry...I cry spontaneously and I gag and I take a clonazepam but none of it takes it away. I dream of it, and I feel it somewhere so deeply.

I do not like feeling. Anything.

But I do.

And that's why I don't like feeling.

It hurts. It hurts every time.

I won't let anyone in, and those I want in, won't come in (with one exception).

God I wish she knew... I wish he knew.

I miss her so desperately and now it's a compound fracture and there's no doctor.

I'll never forgive him...he knows who he is. To judge, when you're unknown by someone, is loathsome and immature and - in this case - disrespectful.

I hope my daughter sees the control all around her and frees herself.

Unlike me....who's just now learning - or trying to learn - to free myself.

That's why I can see her prison.

Because I've lived there my whole life.