Hurt is the pain that eats away at my heart and makes me see the world through a filter of truth. Hurt is the passion that makes me live with the hope for eventual vengeance. Hurt is what sits in the pit of my stomach, waiting for me to acknowledge its power. Hurt is my shepherd, my comfort, my home. Hurt is what I feel every moment of every day. Hurt is what halts my laughter immediately after it’s conceived. Hurt is what makes me hate the world.
Hurt is the lump in my throat, the pain in my side, the tears that are welled up behind my eyes. Hurt is the well of tears that can’t seem to overflow, the tears that are trapped inside of me, dripping down the back of my throat, rushing over the sands of time that wear down my body as it grows older and more insecure. Hurt is the tenseness in my hands and the blurred vision of my future. Hurt is the dream that is fading and falling apart little by little. Hurt is the monster that grabs me from behind and chokes me with its inhuman hands. Hurt is the feeling of knowing you’ve lost your place on a pedestal in someone’s life. Hurt is knowing you’ve lost yourself somewhere along the way. Hurt is having but not being fulfilled. Hurt is appreciating but not finding comfort. Hurt is emptiness and tiredness, unsuredness and anxiety. Hurt is pressure and pretense and the burden of having to pretend that it’s all okay.
Hurt is my captor, my dictator, my tormentor. Hurt is the snap of a whip and the sting as it pierces my innocent flesh. Hurt is the fish trying to live on land, the dinosaur in the twenty-first century. Hurt is the lifetime achievement that wins no award, the miracle that gains no compliment. Hurt is the knife that never cuts, the scar that never heals. Hurt is the end of a good time, the start of an unpleasant task. Hurt is the harsh word in response to a friendly gesture, the failure to acknowledge a favor, the injustice that goes unnoticed. Hurt is the innocent man sentenced to life in prison, the family who sees their son’s murderer released on parole. Hurt is the inability to communicate. Hurt is the passionate speech that has no audience. Hurt is the dramatic performance that received no applause, the song that reached no ear. Hurt is the question that has no answer and the answer to a question that will never be asked.
|Hurt is being a part of something that forgets you. Hurt is being forgotten by a friend. Hurt is being afraid of the person you thought you could trust. Hurt is having to wait up for the loved one who didn’t call. Hurt is having to wonder. Hurt is never knowing. Hurt is turmoil, floating on a placid bay that doesn’t want to be disturbed. Hurt is feeling lonely in the middle of a crowd. Hurt is betrayal and jealousy studded with self-doubt and self-contempt. Hurt is a curse on an undeserving body. Hurt is seeing the face of a friend in pain. Hurt is witnessing a tragic goodbye. Hurt is having to say goodbye. Hurt is not being able to say goodbye. Hurt is abandonment. Hurt is misplacing your trust. Hurt is unrequited love. Hurt is unreliable love. Hurt is the absence of love, the confusion about whether or not love really exists.|
Hurt is knowing that I can kill. Hurt is knowing that others can kill. Hurt is knowing that we all will die. Hurt is knowing that I will die soon. Hurt is knowing that I am going to die before I achieve anything. Hurt is knowing that I was never meant to achieve. Hurt is knowing that I am nothing. Hurt is knowing that nobody wants me and nobody loves me as much as I need to be loved. Hurt is knowing that nobody wants my love. Hurt is knowing that I am too much to handle. Hurt is knowing that I wouldn’t want to handle me either. Hurt is knowing that the world is afraid of me. Hurt is knowing that they’re all wrong. Hurt is knowing there is no one else out there like me. Hurt is knowing that everyone is glad there is no one else out there like me. Hurt is knowing that people wish I wasn’t who I am. Hurt is knowing that people wish I could be more like them. Hurt is knowing that nobody understands where my pain comes from, including myself. Hurt is knowing that no one can even begin to imagine the extent of the pain. Hurt is knowing that I am loved by people who can’t love me enough to fill the void that is constantly in my heart.
Hurt is being on the twenty-fifth mile of the marathon and knowing you don’t have the strength to finish. Hurt is knowing your actions have negatively affected someone else. Hurt is looking in the mirror and wanting to scratch out the eyeballs of your reflection. Hurt is constantly feeling inadequate even when you know you’re more deserving. Hurt is being blamed for something you didn’t do. Hurt is knowing that your best isn’t good enough. Hurt is knowing that you have more than you really need and knowing that you wouldn’t feel better even if you gave it all away. Hurt is finding out that life fucking sucks. Hurt is having to live with the knowledge that life fucking sucks. Hurt is wandering aimlessly through minute after minute, trying desperately to put yourself in a dangerous situation that might eventually get you killed.
Hurt is the demon in my veins. Hurt is not knowing how to exorcise the demon. Hurt is knowing that no one can help me exorcise the demon. Hurt is knowing that nobody who cares is smart enough to help. Hurt is knowing that nobody who’s smart enough cares. Hurt is knowing that none of this matters. Hurt is knowing I’ll only feel better when I’m dead. Hurt is knowing that I hurt people when I say that. Hurt is knowing that they don’t know how much I wish I didn’t have to hurt them or say that at all. Hurt is my life, my soul, and me. Hurt is everything, and I am nothing. Hurt is all there is in life. All I know is hurt.