My mind stopped spinning. My body stopped crying.
Everything just stopped.
The silence is louder than a loaded gun, as James Durbin would say.
The absence of pain is more torturous in the long run.
It’s as if the tornado of thoughts, the whirlwind of panic and fear, the blizzard of confusion, everything just got trapped somewhere.
When you sit down for an exam you’ve studied for endless hours for and your mind goes blank…it doesn’t matter how hard you try or the fact that you know the information is somewhere just beyond the wall, you can’t get to it. That’s what this feels like. My emotions, my thoughts, my pain is just beyond the rainbow but it doesn’t matter how hard I try to force myself to feel, to think, because it’s simply out of my reach.
The calmness should terrify me.
The absence should worry me.
But, in reality, I’m used to this. I’m used to shutting my emotions off when my mind can’t comprehend or handle what I feel. I’m used to pretending to be brave and strong to take someone else under my wing. I’m used to having happiness getting stroke down with a brick wall being slammed into my face.
But somewhere in between the panic and the pain, my body stopped comprehending the world around it. It’s like dumping two pounds of flour onto a cup size funnel and expecting it to work out. You get the flush of ingredients when you initially dump the flour over but it will soon get stuck and it will quickly overflow the system. And leaving it there won’t change anything.
Time won’t change anything if all you do is stare.