AGONY IN SOLITUDE
It hurts so bad that I barely move my body, frozen in a prison of pain, as if the very marrow of my Bones has turned to ice. I'm trapped in a desolate landscape, a barren Antarctica of suffering, where the chill of despair seeps into my soul. And yet, paradoxically, I crave the comfort of solitude, a solitary animal retreating to it's den to lick it's wounds . I want to scream so bad that my voice starts to stutter, to shatter the silence that suffocates me, to release the pressure cooker of emotions that threatens to explode. Oh, the aching sensation that ravages my body, a relentless, sharp, and intense torment that refuses to be ignored. It's as if every nerve ending is on fire, a searing, throbbing ache that pulses with every beat of my heart. But why does this crushing pain get worse at night, when the world is hushed and the distractions fade? Why does it stalk me, a predator lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on my vulnerability? It's hard for me to...