I would shove my hand so far down my own throat just to retch out every bit of sadness inside me, if I knew it would help.
I would bash my temple against the corner of the dresser repeatedly to render myself dumb with every bit of darkness blotted out, if I knew it would help.
I would slice open my wrists to bleed out every bit of hurt, pain, and turmoil til I drowned myself in red to permanently hush the nightly cries, if I knew it would help.
I would stretch out across the tracks and close my eyes anticipating the oncoming solace as the train ravaged my corpse into loose pieces, if I knew it would help.
But these moments of potential peace offer no real escape, so I will wait it out.
I will wait everything out that could ever hope to occur.
I will wait out the end of time if need be.
I will accept every bit of hell birthed before me while I wait this all out.
I will wait for the good, whatever that may be.
I will wait, even though I don’t believe it will help.
I will wait, even though it’s not helping me.
I will wait, even though I don’t want to.
I will wait, because I have to.