Ok then. Now that I got the basics out of the way...

I'm sitting on my chair, staring at my computer. I'm crying, but not visibly. I can feel my body crying in my lower stomach, the tightening pain inside me. I'm screaming. But no one can see it when they look at me. My face can no longer convey the emotions, nor can I truly feel them. They are buried so deep that they are more of an echo, a memory, a diluted idea of what I should be feeling, but some wonderful, horrible place in my brain is protecting me from feeling the full force of it and telling me to pretend to feel alright and spread this fake joy to the people around me. I need a break. I need everything to stop. But then, what is a break? What kinda break do I need? I search my mind and every pained pore on my body, desperate for a clearer understanding of this idea that even I don't fully grasp. I don't know. I don't know what "a break" means. It's not a vacation. It's not a spa day. It's this massive, impossible desire to put the whole world on pause. So I remain seated on my computer staring at the screen for 15 hours a day, drowning these thoughts in whatever I can find on that screen, I've been drowning them for so long that I've become an addict to these lifevests that barely keep me up and floating, the world is still moving the time still going and the agony of these feelings is still there. The desperation for an unknown something without the slightest idea of what that might be, and the ever-present need for everything to stop. To be forgotten entirely. To disappear.