Medicine

November 20th, 2022

The rope and the blade, the pill and the bottle, they whisper at the edges of each daily reality. Going through the motions, masking is mandated because the cracks in your smile disturb them. Under the bed, inside the cabinet, ticking off a checklist that has an untouchable task. Information is compiled regardless of its potential; why would they teach the dose in class? 

Can’t forget to mask, when it slips they worry and your life has already hurt enough. How much rope does it take to bind a shattered heart? How many pills does it take to soothe the heartache?

Can you drown the pain with a bottle, or cut it out with a knife. Or is this sadness insurmountable, just another aspect of a life you don’t want to live . Rest is for the weary, but there is no rest when the enemy is inside the walls of your very mind.

The daily reality is a performance of particulars, the dying throes of a bleeding heart bleeding out. Smile with your eyes, smile with your mouth, smile with your voice or they’ll ask what it’s about. Compiling information on emotional distress, learning the signs of those not as far along as you. 

Always helping, always hurting, trying your best to protect others from the pain you call home. Creating safe spaces, offering space in your dying heart for those who feel alone. Your pain is their safety, because in the pool of tears you kneel in, they see themselves and don’t feel alone. Live your life as your heart dies; Care for those around you, the ones with the darkness in their eyes.

Like knows like, and misery loves company.