unwound

Cross-hearted at my worst with deep, sickening tightness in my chest. The vice of my heart currently lies within my own mind. I understand that wishing for peace seems strange when the very concept of peace is only held by your own self, yet I can’t help but clasp my hands together and continue to do so. I feel stuck, with a barren mind and all my faults lined up and shovelled into my face as I try to hold my breath. I promise myself I will never think I am able to bear and raise a child.