At this point of time I just wanna stop and rest. I'm tired. But there's just this force pushing me along even if I have to drag my scraped bloody knees on the ground as I lug on. Sometimes you just come to a point when everything just doesn't make sense and you're still forced to absorb it. Crying doesn't work. Crying's for losers. Sometimes I don't mind being a loser. Now is one of the times. Just sometimes, you cry till you find no meaning in it, and then you just stop crying and let everything rush over you. The tears don't fall anymore. The wounds don't hurt anymore. Everything you've ever suffered gets piled over you like dead bodies and they just seem like something that isn't even related to you.
If ever you get to this point, the only thing you even feel like doing is to turn to God to find rest in him. And slowly, the tears come; and quickly they leave. You feel the pain again and it's as cruel as ever. But maybe this is better than being numb. And then you continue moving. The wounds heal and close. The scars form. Time and time again you look at the scars; they bring back memories. But then again, even knowing how much it hurt, I do it all over again.