Karma's a Bitch

My stomach twists in anguish, my mind once again retreating to the past. To the good times--always the good. Bile begins to rise up in my throat again. I don't know why, I haven't eaten anything in days. Still my insides are protesting in a not-so-gentle reminder that I asked for this, that this is all my fault. Air, I need air, I'm suffocating. I climb down the stairs and dash outside as my legs begin to guide me in my usual walk. Mindlessly I follow, my consciousness bombarded with thoughts that make me want to rip my hair out. Run, I need to run to escape my own thoughts. I break into a run as fast as my legs will take me. As fast as I can push until I feel alive again. I feel my heart beating out of my chest, a heart I wish I never had. The air stings my lungs with every breath until I see them. The swings. The one staple of my childhood. Immediately my feet head for them. I collapse into the seat and pause. I forgot how to swing. Has it really been that long? I grab hold of the metal links and lean backwards as my legs extend, then I slowly lean forwards as I bring my legs back under me. It takes me a while to get into a groove again. It isn't long before I'm pumping and pumping as fast as I can as the tears being to release themselves. The hurt and the pain finally taking over me until the sobs begin. There's nothing I can do. It's over. I feel like a piece of me died today. A piece I will never get back.

I cry until I run out of tears and the swing is making creases in my thighs. I glance around at the park before me. The sun shining through the trees, the birds chirping all around and I can't help but think: Life goes on. 

Just like remembering how to swing, I will remember how to move on. I will grow, I will learn, I will be stronger.