Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Do you know how I feel?

Do you know how I feel?
Do you really truly know how I feel?

Do you know what it is like to live in my skin?
Skin that is too tight, too hot, too prickly, too itchy

The itch
The burn
The million prickles

A single touch, a lover’s caress, sends waves of pain shooting across my skin, tapping nerves that run deep into the muscles.  More pain as muscles convulse.

Do you know how I feel?
Have you felt the drain?
My world has narrowed.  My vision has dimmed.  All I see, all I feel, is pain.

Today is a good day.  I can think.  Yesterday I barely remembered my name.  I thought I was losing my mind.  Did I hurt you? Bruise your ego, wound your pride.  I’m sorry.  I was not myself.  Today is better.  I feel like I am barely clinging to my sanity with nails that are breaking as we speak.  Never knowing what tomorrow will bring.

Do you know how I feel?
Every muscle tightens, spasms, screams.
Pain shoots from my spine.
Every step brings tears.
The simple act of reaching for you feels like my arms are being torn out of my shoulder sockets.

And this, this is a good day.

Do you know how I feel?

You reach for me, I reach for you, we come together, I cry out in pain.  I feel your guilt, your remorse, your anger.  Guilt that you caused me pain, remorse that what we had seems lost forever, your anger .. oh God! … your anger!  Anger at you, anger at me, anger at the gods.  I turn away.

I miss you, I miss me, I miss us.

Do you know how I feel?

I see you walk by in heels or in boots, wearing those clothes, talking about your evening, your weekend, your life.

And here I sit slumped over the keyboard, shoulders tight in pain.  Too tired to think past the next moment.  My evenings are spent in misery, my weekends lost to recovering from the work week.  How can I strive for advancement when I’m not even sure I will make it to work the next day? Will this be the day that I screw up and get fired?  How many “little” mistakes until I’m showed the door?  Retirement? What’s that? I won’t make it to 65.  I’m old now.

Do you know how I feel?
Every moment, every breath, every thought
Another pain, more discomfort, more agony
It never stops.
There is no relief.
I sit, I hurt.
I lay, I hurt
I move, I hurt
I think, I hurt
I love, I hurt
Never any release.
The drugs merely mask the pain that never ends.
My doctor, my pusher.
Take the meds, ease the pain, sleep, wake in agony.
The cycle never ends.

You think you know how I feel.
Thank God you don’t.
I hope you never, ever truly know how I feel.