How long does it take for a person's soul to break?
I lost count how many times I've tried to pretend I'm okay and smiled. I don't know how long it will take for my facade to crack before people will see what I truly lack. My heart is so heavy I had to tie it in a leash, tugging on its ends as I push to my limits.
You see, I tried to look at the beauty despite how my life became messy. I laughed when most of what I love is lost. I sing when all I wanted was to be silent. I dance when everything in me seems to be damaged. I tried to live and ended up half-living. Half-laughing. Half-singing. Half-dancing. Because everything in me is half-broken.
But pretending has its own ending. The sorrow will begin to show, the tears start to spill, the mask will soon crack, and the whole world will know that I am not okay, though I didn't stop trying to be. I tried too hard until I got tired.
Tired of all the shits I have to give for the world to think I'm fine. Tired of all the pretending and lying. Tired of laughing at a joke when all I wanted was to try and smoke and steal a millisecond of relief. The nicotine taking over, as I get drunk trying to be sober. I'm so tired of my own drama I want to be free from it. Free from the pain and the burden of faking everything.
Then I felt a click.
The leash snapped.
The rope that tethered me to my heart went slack. I lost my heart on the other end, and without it, my soul begins to crack. I felt and heard the creak, saw the streak of light that leaked through me. There was too much dark ink on me, I can barely see. The ink of lies I've weaved started to drown me, I struggled, I heaved, I tried to breathe. Right then and there I wanted to live.
True living. Not the halfhearted life I've been faking. I decided I don't want to be stuck on this pain I've cultivated in the past years. I realized I have to break first and lose my soul to heal, to mend and start again. And this time, hoping, everything will be real.