Imagine to Remember

This body will express all that my tongue cannot, all that my mind will deny, although my heart is weary it knows what I dare not admit. My limbs are heavy with resentments and in my head there is always this dull ache, throbbing, tensing. There is always this turning, lurching back and forth in my belly, and the heat of anger in my blood. This body will say what it must when my lips refuse part, when the mind tries to drown truth with a seemingly endless array of vices. This is an ancient fatigue, running, hiding, fighting, every nerve bracing for the next blow, wincing at softest touches, and startled by even the quietest of sounds. I wonder what would happen if I stopped. If I gave in to this overwhelming desire for nothingness, to do nothing, be nothing, to exist only in the blank spaces and the dense silence. Would I, enticed by the possibility of relief give into the dark impulse I have always feared lurks within me, just under the surface of my skin? Or would I, without this constant will, this thing that moves and propels, close in on myself like some lonely creature who burrows its home in the cold ground or in the dark depths of the sea?