"I lay in my bed a few minutes later, resigned as the pain finally made its appearance. It was a crippling thing, this sensation that a huge hole had been punched through my chest, excising my most vital organs and leaving ragged, unhealed gashes around the edges that continued to throb and bleed despite the passage of time. Rationally, I knew my lungs must still be intact, yet I gasped for air and my head spun like my efforts yielding me nothing. My heart must have beating, too, but I couldn't hear the sound of my pulse in my ears; my hands felt blue with cold. I curled inward, hugging my ribs to hold myself together. I scrambled for my numbness, my denial, but it evaded me."
"And yet, I found I could survive. I was alert, I felt the pain -- the aching loss that radiated out from my chest, sending wracking waves of hurt through my limbs and head -- but it was manageable. I could live through it. It didn't feel like the pain had weakened over time, rather that I'd grown strong enough to bear it."
This is a pretty good description of my pain, thank you Stephenie Meyer for being able to put it into words for me. There is only one difference though, the pain, for me, radiates throughout my body. Like my blood is on fire. It is absolutely a strange thing that the brain can transform emotional pain into crippling physical pain.
I miss you so much Michael. I would do anything for just an hour, 15 minutes, hell even a minute with you again...
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