It's believing you're completely alone.
It's when it's all about surviving every day and not living it.
It's thinking the pain will never end.
It's making yourself bleed because you think only you should be able to do that.
It's silently crying yourself to sleep every night.
It's wearing long sleeves to bed.
It's when the hunger pangs are to make you invisible.
It's thinking that the person hurting you the most is the only person in your world.
It's praying for someone to ask why.
It's contemplating an escape by any means possible.
It's hardening to love and passion.
It's hiding behind a brick wall.
It's convincing yourself it isn't even happening.
It's learning how to leave your body and it's pain behind.
It's trying to show people what's happening.
It's having too many secrets that your head feels physically full.
It's trying everything you can think of to cope.
It's wishing that you were making it up.
It's gaining trigger words, places, people, smells, sounds...
It's having something to have a flashback about.
It's worrying that even if it ends, the memories will kill you.
It's forgetting other people exist.
It's forgetting right from wrong.
It's doubting yourself and all of your thoughts and feelings.
It's hoping for another person's demise.
It's when the percentage on an alcoholic drink can never be high enough.
It's learning how much you want life.
It's becoming less naïve.
It's understanding what people are capable of and that it's not all people.
It's feeling failed by anyone who didn't know but learning not to blame them.
It's being made into a stronger and braver person.