I was once a person who enjoyed life, who was able to feel and express a whole pallet of emotions. Today I am merely a broken shell of what I used to be...
I'm one of those people that likes to run, but strangely not for the exercise, but at moments I am confused wheter I'm alive or not, because I simply cannot feel anything... So I run... Both litteraly and methaporically... I run till my heart pounds so hard that I want to rip it our of my body. It is then that I feel alive again...
Sometimes I wonder what happened for me to turn out this way, but a gentle glance at my past clearly points out the moments that broke me... I look back to those moments a lot... Death, anger, betrayal, shame...
The really funny part is that I'm not sure if I want to be "fixed"... The one thing I do know is that all the walls I put up to protect what's left of my inner self will need a freaking buldozer to be taken down...
The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep at night... In the pain there is healing...
