PAIN
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You don't know how I feel. You could never understand how I feel.
I could feel it again. That crushing sensation in my chest that squeezes the life out of me through my tears, my heaving breaths and aching head that just makes me want to kill myself.
Nobody's home.
I cough and bite my lip as I curl under the covers—alone, I think bitterly—and just cry, but I don't want to. I just want to stop crying and stop hurting and just stop, but I've known myself to be stubborn. I don't listen.
My phone lays unnoticed next to my tear-soaked pillow, my suppressed wails muffled by the fist pressed to my lips.
Nobody cares.
It's in the dead of the night and I am alone. Only the night knows my pain.
But then the night never stays.