Pain
The real pain is never hysterical shouting, but the unspeakable torment hidden deep in the heart, like a wet and cold fog, tightly wrapping the whole person and lingering.
It always comes quietly, hiding in the forced smile during the day. We pretend to be strong, live and talk, and pretend everything is fine, but only we know that there is always a heavy stone pressing on our chest, and even our breathing is sour. Those unspeakable grievances and regrets that can't be let go are like tiny thorns that prick into my heart with the slightest touch.
At night, the pain can no longer be hidden. The darkness swallowed up all the disguises, thoughts surged uncontrollably, and those sad moments resurfaced over and over again, and tears fell silently, wetting the pillow. Not daring to speak out, I could only bear this bone-eroding sadness alone. The world became gray, even the sounds around me became harsh, and my heart was filled with powerlessness and exhaustion.
It has no shape, but it can suck away all happiness and make people numb and silent. We want to break free, but we are trapped so tightly that even talking feels futile. It turns out that the most torturous pain is silent and forbearing. It is carrying all the sadness alone, slowly digesting the scars in the heart in a deserted corner, and gritting one's teeth bit by bit in the suffering.
Intention: None