in my perfect world

I feel sick. Sick to my core. My stomach is so hollow, yet a large rock resides within it echoing around within so that when I feel the need to wretch it just aches like when you have twisted and squeezed to the point where there is nothing left and still the feeling, the needing, the aching to drain it all out doesn't stop.

I can feel my heart pounding so loudly against my chest it reverberates in every part of my body especially my head which is flooded like it has to swim through goo in order to process information.

My breathing feels laborious like at any moment I might take my last breath.

As I look around people are laughing and carrying on as if all is right in the world.

Here I stand, carrying on as well.

My strength astounds me. That I am able to put all of this aside and act normal. To portray the person I don't feel inside. Whether that is because of the numbness or the agony, so great that surviving is the only way to go, I wish I knew.

But I won't let them see me give in. I won't allow that to happen. I am stronger than even I give myself credit for.

Instead I hold my head high and act the performance of a lifetime because in my perfect world people that respect me as I respect them would not betray me like this.