Freedom

I hold so much pain inside my heart.
Everyday, I try to conceal it, and bury it deep inside of me,
hoping that if I let it sit there long enough, it will disappear.
It doesnt
It always, very slowly, inches its way back up to the top, and digs its claws inside my brain, making me relive each atrocious memory, clip by clip.
Torturing my thought, making my heart want to explode, from the hurt.
This disease, is willing me to end my life,to give up hope on everyone and my self.
My disease tells no one loves me, and that I am worthless and don't matter to anyone.
My disease tells me that I would be better off dead, that every one around me would be better off with out me.
My disease tells me to pick up that bottle of pills, or to pick a razor blade, and tells me how good it would feel to slice open my wrists, to end the numbness that I feel inside my heart.
How much of a relief it would be to watch the memories and sickness flow out of my veins.
Yes, sweet release, freedom, in this one and final act...
But, as always, my senses come back to me and never let my disease win, I have the freedom to choose to live again today...