When it comes, it bears no warning, no foresight, no kindness.
It hits you hard; not like a hurricane, not like a bolt of lightning, but like a rock projected straight to your heart.
It’s confusing because it messes with your thoughts.
It’s blinding and you can’t explain it.
It seems like a friend, but do not be fooled.
It is empty.
It is void.
It overwhelms all else.
It will pull out your darkest, most dearest secrets from the past so that you can relive them and hate yourself more.
It lives off your tears. Sweet as nectar, as juicy as all the lies that you have told – lies you tell to conceal it. It doesn’t like to be hidden.
It’s scary; because you don’t know how to get rid of it, because it comes when you least expect it.
It comes again and again and again. Haunting, hurting while you’re still healing.
Once in a while, you may recognize it right away, whisper its name into the air for no one in particular to hear.