Pressure

Every now and then I close my eyes and pretend I’m underwater. Every now and then I take a breath only to check I am not drowning. And then I cry underwater, to make sure no one is watching. All of my tears are shed underwater.

I take a deep breath once again and I pretend I don’t care. I push the yearn to scream and hide it behind a half-smile. I’ve gotten used to those half-smiles.

I miss the words, and the ink, and the moments when it doesn’t matter. I miss my heart, my smile… I miss those days when time was a promise and not a torture. Can I even speak? Can I scream without the world crumbling around me?… just smile… half-smile. Practice makes expert and your face has gotten used to it. From within I scream, I struggle to breath but keep smiling… always smiling, and sunshine and rainbows, and all the crap that now became my half-smile.

I pull my self deeper into the ocean. I miss the dark abysm, not for the darkness, or the silence, but for the feeling of release. ironic, isn’t it, “The feeling of release” when pressure is crushing you. That might as well be the story of my life. Silence being crushed by pressure.