After a while, you get somewhat addicted to the pain. Not that you would go and hammer a nail on your palm, but you strain out a certain painful pleasure thinking about it. You are repelled by your growing temptation towards pain. You think that you can't take the pain anymore but a part of you knows that you can take much more than this. Patiently you listen to them telling you it will work out, that it will be alright. You nod your head in agreement. Somewhe deep inside you a voice questions, what if.. it doesn't work? what if.. everything don't turn out the way you want? what then? Your stubborn belief for a happy ending, a positive outcome trembles ever so lightly.
Many a time you think your heart cannot take it anymore, that it will explode unless you vent it out. You think of the last time you cried your heart out and you can't remember when. Every now and then, your eyes brim with wasteful briny tears threatening to wreck the walls of your sanity. You swiftly wipe them off because you are too practical and concerned about your congested nose later on!
So you don't cry. You dream of good times..make fervent plans, too far in your future. Then, retreat back fearing what if they don't come true. Then just like that, you are overshadowed by despair and what ifs. The despair pushes right through you. Just for a second, you let it seep into your cells. It feels so good to wallow in self pity. You have been through so much. You deserve so much better. It feels almost blissful to just sit and pity yourself. Snap out of it, you think. You heave three long breaths and convince yourself, you feel much better. You push them all out. Out of your system, the good thoughts and the bad ones.
You float through it all. The pain, the sorrow, the disappointments, the paranoia becomes a part of who you are. You can no longer separate yourself from them. Some days you let them consume you, leaving you breathless. On good days, you wear them around like battle wounds. You dream of a day the wounds and violet green bruises would just be a faint scar. You would trace your finger on the scars, reminisce your battle days. You also dream to miss the pain pulsing through you. You long to look back and think you were strong even when you thought you were weak. You were persistent even when you thought you couldn't go on.
You wait for all that to happen. While right now, pain flows freely through your veins.