let me count the ways...

They say that as soon as your born, you start dying. They say that your biological clock starts ticking the moment you take your first breath.This must be what that feels like. I want to feel every minute of this pain, this pain that they call living. Every day I want to feel my heart beat once less then it did the day before. After all, every feeling is worth feeling..right? How do I feel the sorrow. let me count the ways..The pain, it comes in waves. Its seen in my expressions. The way I nervously gaze around the room because it pains me to look you in the eyes, the way I always have something witty  to say so I can break the awkward tension. I can cry pure tears on command, pent up frustration strangles me..it easily bleeds through my brittle skin and dry eyes. I fidget in my seat like a 4th grader on a field trip, but you swear to god i'm incredible. I die inside every time I see your smile, knowing that I could never love you the way I needed to. A sick person I am,  embodying my sins mind, body and soul. My own reflection can make my skin crawl, even on the best of days. I see a battered woman, and woman who has lived her life suffering at the expense of others. A woman with hands worn like shoe leather, and a heart torn to shreds, of half hearted love notes, and valentines cards that had gone unread. She views her life through technicolor rainbows, and periods of  freezing rain. Wondering what those shades of grey keep covered...She knows she's dying, the sickness has lived in her for years. "It is always darkest right before the dawn", she'd read in a book one time. Her happy place soon became a prison for her thoughts, and a bunker for her alibi. Hold your breath sammy, can you feel the pressure. Her world becomes COMPLETE darkness, and she whispers, I am HOME.