suffering

Suffering isn't just pain. Suffering is silence. It's the feeling of standing in the middle of a room and no one sees you. Not because you're invisible, but because no one wants to look. Because it hurts to look at you. Because your suffering has destroyed the lie that everything is okay. Because you are proof that it isn't. Suffering isn't loud. It doesn't scream. It whispers. It creeps into your bones, slowly, unobtrusively. Suddenly, someone is missing. Not because they've moved away, not because contact has faded but because they're no longer there. Not at all. And everyone says, "It gets easier with time." But no one tells you what to do with all the love that suddenly has no place. No body, no gaze, no voice. Just empty. You want to scream, but the echo doesn't bring them back. You want to dream, but even there you lose it again. You remember that last sentence and hope it wasn't the wrong one. And then everyday life returns, unashamedly loud, while you're falling apart. They talk about appointments and plans, and you just try to breathe, without breaking. Suffering is when the world keeps going, but you're still living in the same moment.