Pool Of Regret

I finally understood why they called it a pool of regret.

Once you're in it, you feel like you're drowning.



The darkness in your room engulfs you, almost swallows you. Your body feels heavy, and at the same time nothing at all. Your heart aches, but still it feels as if there is nothing, as if you have no heart. Constant headaches. You sleep way more often than you should. You become dreary and always tired. Mentally, and physically. Your eyes water while you sleep, because the pain can not be cried out while you’re awake. You pray so much more, begging, and pleading. You know in your heart you made the wrong decision. In the process you lost everything. A parasite, weakening you, sucking the life out of you, killing you from the inside out. Heartbreak is no walk through a garden. Unless the garden is covered by grey clouds, and the ground wrapped in thorns that cut you each time you move ever so slightly. Drowning as the water rushes in, making you feel uneasy. You can’t breathe. Doubts, and constant words, phrases, and thoughts circle your mind and you become angry. This thing inside you makes you become so angry, yet you feel nothing at all. Screaming, crying, begging for help. You lost the one thing you dared not lose. Now, your walls have come Crumbling down and your friends around you question why you’ve suddenly become so weak. You cannot answer them. You only hope for the day you can get back what you’ve lost, what you idiotically threw away; and cry. Just hold what you’ve lost in your arms and cry. Receive the assurance and support you’re so longingly calling out for. But no one can hear you, no one can understand how much it hurts. How the daggers penetrate your head everytime you think of it. How they penetrate even if you’re not thinking of it as well. It grabs your chest and heart and throws you across the room, your body hits the wall, and you lay cold on the floor. The constant battle going on inside you, the screaming, crying, yelling, scratching, fighting. But on the outside you are still. You are sitting in school at your assigned desk, writing down whatever it is you need to, brush back a piece of your hair, and you smile. Because that is what is expected of you. And no one knows the real war, and demons that are killing you from the inside out, because who needs to know? They’ve already made it clear that they won’t help you.

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