Have you ever gotten to the point where you just want to lay in bed and waste the day away?
A point where your heart is so tired that it's become a physical weight, a pain.
Or to where you just want to stop and sit down in the middle of the road and say "Can someone else take over now? I don't know why, but I can't go any further."?
Have you ever gotten to the point where you can't do it by yourself and everyone around you is reaching out to you, trying to lift you up, but they aren't strong enough? They aren't the arms of the person who can lift you up from the dirty floor and take you away from everything bad.

And then you sit down on the bench, exhausted and aching and you wrap your arms around your body hoping to keep the pieces together. You clutch onto your body desperately, cutting into your flesh. It's cold and dark. Then, it starts to rain. Your arms fall from your body in defeat. The pieces go everywhere. You fall to your knees on the cement. There are so many pieces. You don't even know where to start. Too many. Too much.

You give up and lay on the bench, staring at the pieces lying on the wet ground. People walk by. Some stop to give you a glance. Others ignore you. Some even stop to try and help you. Some pick up the pieces and cut themselves, so they have to leave. Some can't find the matching pieces, so they put them back where they were found and walk away. You wish that they could solve the puzzle. Such a complex puzzle. But they don't know how. They would if they knew, but only one person does. And where is that person? The one you're waiting for?

You still have that hope. But the doubt is standing right next to it. They look down at you. They laugh at each tear that falls. The stand there, so close, and mock you. It starts raining again. This time it won't stop. You know it. Hope turns to leave, but you reach out for him. You grasp his hand. He turns around with a smile, still mocking, but not quite. He sits on the ground next to the bench. You cling to his hand and he clings back. Hope won't leave. Neither will doubt. You beg for doubt to leave, but he doesn't want to be lonely. So he stays too.

Here you are, lying on a bench in the rain. Hope and doubt are here. They aren't going anywhere. The wait is long. You don't know if the end will ever come. But by the end, you'll barely be able to open your eyes. You'll be too weak. This is what the weight does. It gets heavier and heavier. It never stops. It just continues to spread.

If only the one who could make it better would come now. But he won't.

You are done. Just done. Nothing else.

A/N: I just wrote this to help me cope with some rough times. We all have our rocky days, and this really helped me. I wrote it awhile back, but I'm just now posting it. I really meant to post it a long time ago.

Also, if you've read chapter 1 of Whispering Encounters, please don't expect an update. I am writing it, but very, very slowly.