I felt chest pains and gasped for air. I felt like my lungs have stopped and a black veil shadowed things. It really doesn’t matter how I felt for I will get no sympathy and definitely not from me. I coughed to hide my panic and my pain. I did not say anything as I thought my chocked voice would give me away. We are now all pretending that all is well. We played the “and they lived happily forever after”. I am the only loser in this game and no matter what kind of scenario happens I will still go down. Well deserved, I told myself. Why do I have to be so dismal? Anyway, I choose the familiarity of the “pretend all is well” scenario. It has proved safe and less freighting. However, lately there suddenly proved to be too many holes opening up. Well, it is this damned bottled anger that keeps popping up making the patching harder to handle. Simply there aren’t enough patches for the cuts and then it spills hot and slime-like. Anger, what color is it? I think it is dark green. For people get darker when they get angry. But there is this other feeling too and it is pale and white. I guess that’s pain. It is confusing because it can also get red and jagged. Pain, oh that strong-willed monster that engulfs you and you drawn, squeezes you and you suffocate, or rip you apart and then you just scatter all over the place. But pain this time came with this emptiness of a barren woman. When there is nothing alive at all inside, but a void. Nothing that grows and brings joy as it does. Emptiness that women might experience after a had-to abortion.
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