The taste of salt that streams down your cheeks keeps your heart skipping beats.
Rapidly your chest begins to cave in on itself.
At first you feel that it’s just the shortness of breath and the tightening of your lungs, then you realize that the hole in your chest where you heart once lay is imploding on itself.
Looking down and seeing your rib cage and your life crushing in on yourself is the sad and familiar scenario that you strive to let go.
It encapsulates your entire existence in a blanket of love that turns into a straight jacket of self-loathing pain and a justified comfort that you’re all too accepting of.
What makes this stop? Who makes you grab yourself and extract you from this life as you know it and save yourself?
Most will say you have to do it on your own; but the likeliness of that is slim to none. The Devil that wears Prada holds the key to the heart that has never won.
Falling once again into the abyss of everything that hurts, everything made sense until yanked away again with no regard of your life, as you spin out of control living a life again full of spite.