“Is Emma home alone, then?” Jacob asked.

Shaking his head, Daniel sighed. “No. . . Jazz’s with her. I thought they’d like some girl time or whatever.”

Jacob nodded. “Oh, okay.” Daniel wasn’t telling the truth, but he didn’t press it. As far as he knew, there had been no problems with Daniel and Emma’s marriage, but anyone could put on a show. And recently, his friend had been acting weird, seeming to avoid any mention of his wife.

“How’s work been going?” Daniel asked.

Jacob mentally shook himself, focusing back on his friend. “Oh, good. And you?”

They talked about other meaningless things for the next ten minutes or so. Jacob kept looking for an opporutnity to ask about Emma, but so far, nothing else had been presented.

“Well, I probably should be getting home. I don’t like to leave my poor Ava on her own with the triplets; they can be a handful,” Jacob said.

“I don’t think I could handle kids,” Daniel admitted, running a hand through his already messy hair. “And I don’t think Emma could, either. . .”

The last part didn’t even seem to be directed at Jacob.

“Speaking of Emma. . . how’s she been? I haven’t seen her around lately, and Ava wanted to have you guys over. But if she’s sick or something, maybe we could a make a meal?”

Daniel seemed troubled, turning his gaze to the empty plate resting on the sticky diner’s table. Swallowing, he said, “Oh, she’s her usual self.” His forced smile made Jacob even more uneasy, but once again, he didn’t press it.

“Well, it was nice getting to have some one-on-one time with you, and I hope we can get together again some time in the near future,” he said, standing to his feet.

“I hope so, too.”

They shook hands and Jacob walked out of the diner, casting one last glance over his shoulder at Daniel.

###

Daniel sat in his car for almost fifteen minutes before the trickle of tears slowed. With a ragged sigh, he wiped them away with the back of his hand.

Jazz’s car isn’t here anymore, and I don’t want Emma alone. What if something happened to her?

This thought finally drove him out of the vehicle and towards the small house. Simplistic but cozy in daylight, the shadows from the trees playing across its surface made it appear sinister and foreboding. Daniel didn’t hesitate, though, his thoughts on only one thing--his wife.

The door was locked, a great relief to him. He unlocked it and stepped inside.

“Em?” he called softly, not wanting to wake her up if she had already gone to bed.

“I’m in here,” she replied.

Daniel relaxed a little bit more, following her sweet voice to the living room, where she was laying on the couch. The recess lighting was turned down, bathing everything in its soft glow. Emma looked angelic, golden red hair spread out across the pillows, pale skin smooth and soft.

“Hey, beautiful,” he whispered, sitting down on the couch and caressing her cheek. “I’m sorry you had to be alone. . . I didn’t know Jazz would leave so early.”

“No, it’s okay.” She smiled. “It’s good for you to get out, see some of your friends. How’s Jacob doing?”

“Good as ever. They’ve got a lot going on, and from what I gathered, the triplets are hard to keep up with.”

“Imagine trying to potty train them,” Emma shuddered, causing Daniel to smile.

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, the corners of her mouth turning down.

Daniel sobered. “Does it hurt?”

“Just a little, not too much.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him again. “There are many people who have it so much worse than I do. . . I really am blessed.”

He pulled her into his arms, sobbing.

Cancer could not take his Emma.

There’s nothing more painful than being yourself.

It’s easy to be an imitation of others. They already provided you a map and instruction. All you have to do is follow it.

It’s harder to be yourself because you have no idea who you are. You have to dig into yourself, into the influences and thoughts of others that injected into the your very being to find it. And they come in fragments, which gives you another job of piecing them together.

But it’s better and more worth it. Because nobody is just like you.

Nothing

Is more painful

Than knowing

You never cared.

You could never

Look at me

The way

You look at her.

And now,

I’m left

Alone.

You were

And always will be

My other half.

And now,

I don’t have

Enough pieces

To make myself whole

Ever again.

How is it

That I never learned

How to play

The game of life?

You trick me

Again and again.

I never learn

You don’t care.

You just use me

To feel better

Until you find someone

To make you happy.

I’m sorry

I’m not enough.

Maybe someday

I’ll find someone

To make me whole

Forever.

Not just when it

Conveniences them.

Nothing is more painful than being misunderstood,

"Be a good kid," they say,

I wish I could.

Nothing is more painful than being misunderstood

"Be more social," they say

I'll just pull up my hood.

Nothing is more painful than being misunderstood

"Be helpful," they say.

Yeah, I'm no good.

Nothing is more painful than being misunderstood

"You need to be mature," they say.

I ain't ready for adulthood!

Nothing is more painful than being misunderstood

"Build a fire," they say.

Do you not see the wood?

Nothing is more painful than being misunderstood

"You're not able," they say.

Did you not see what I withstood?

There's nothing more painful than being misunderstood.

There is nothing more painful than Conception...

that moment we've first become sentient beings.

It's said that Labor is the most painful thing and it maybe 

but I point out that this is physical, and occasional...

But day in and day out we are most oppressed by Idea.

The more sensitive the man the bigger the Burden...

the responsibility to carry to term something wholesome

(a super nova of a brain child to bless the world withall)

And accordingly the absence of this is just as painful

as the actual carriage... or god forbid miscarriage...

like with the explosive birth of "nuclear" versus

the slow tarrying evolution of "solar power"

And this analogy is leading to a dramatic conclusion

of the times whence an idea, conceived small and sickly

as a Misconception must be as if aborted... decisively 

a painful life changing recognition of cutting away

Tearing of the thoughts we've been gestationing

daily from night until dawn and even in sleep

our ambition compels us to keep on trying...  

for that all important ground breaking novel Idea.

#ThereIsNothingMorePainfulThan #Challenge

I wield a machete, slashing through thicket and vine to get to the words I need to bring you closer to where I am because you asked me what it’s like.

I bubble up from the slime that fills my lungs to meet your hand outreached to pull me back to where the rest of you live, just one more time.

I crawled out from under that dark rock where I was cool and calm and unembarrassed and in control, to meet you in the din of overstimulation and judgement, just in case I could still function there.

I stood in the light and waited for your warmth and the rescue of your breath and your eyes and your shoulder.

I waited there as it grew cold and started to rain on my nude and ugly body, everyone staring and wondering what was wrong with me.

You proudly drew me out and put a bow on it and smiled and called it a gift, while I shook and shuddered and felt alone in a room full of people.

Realizing you don’t understand what I am going through, and don’t want to, and won’t, is the worst pain I have ever endured.

You try to place me where I once fit, like a part of a puzzle you have been working on as a labor of love; that would be unnervingly incomplete if a piece went missing.

Your compulsion and denial pass over my pain like an eclipse, silencing me, beautifully.

There's nothing more painful than watching someone you love suffer. What can you do

to make it better ? You stand there looking at your loved one in that hospital bed. You try to put up a brave front. After all, one needs to be careful about letting emotions of

sadness and frustration come out in front of the loved one. Your loved one has enough

on his or her mind. Hold back those tears. Excuse yourself momentarily if you must so you can wipe your eyes and pull yourself together.

You start to remember times when your loved one was up and alive and happy. It's good

to have those memories. They may be the very thing that holds you together if the outcome does not end well.

The dear one who lay there suffering is an important person in your life. More than anything you want that relationship again. You are not ready to see it fade away. So, you

stay there, and try to give a reassuring smile, a soft touch to brush a stray hair out of their eyes and a gentle kiss on the forehead. You say softly, " I love you" while you are silently

saying a prayer. When you leave the bedside and go out of the room the pain is allowed

to surface with full force. This is not going to be easy.

Seriously. It's the little things that kill you on the days when you're so stressed that the stupidest thing will send you over the edge. The anxiety coursing through you makes every minute thing a world-ending, catastrophic disaster.

"What's wrong?" asks a friend, seeing your tears streaming down your face.

"Stepped on a lego," you sob, nearly incoherent.

Your friend awkwardly pats your shoulder. "Al...alright."

It hurts, it breaks the dam, it wrecks your day, and even you know it's an overreaction. It's just the way it is.

There's nothing more painful than the moment you realize you're numb.

When the stranger on the street calls you a fat freak and it doesn't even make you bat an eye.

When your grades fall lower than they ever have before...where once you would have thought the world was ending you now shrug and toss the test in the trash with the rest.

When the person you had just finally begun to open up to reminds you why you were so closed off to begin with and instead of shedding a tear you delete their number without a second thought.

The moment that started it all, however, was when you sat there watching the blood swirl down the drain, the sting on your flesh still fresh, and you felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So here I sit and tell you that feeling pain is a gift as I write this with an echoing numbess in my chest.

how are you?

i'm great.

how are you?

i'm good, too!

liar, liar

pants on

fire.