Just Breathe.

Breathe. Just breathe. They all tell me that it's the best solution, but it doesn't seem to help any longer. I've been hiding from my demons for so long, hiding from the pain, the regret, and the shame. I tried the bottle, and all I found was more misery and despair, bringing my skeletons out of the closet and into the lives of those around me. I hurt them, and that hurt me even deeper than simply wallowing in my own agony. Everyone gives me the same advice about facing my past, the atrocities I saw and helped commit, but none of them can possibly understand me. My parents, my siblings, my friends. None of them have witnessed the horrors I have. They haven't seen cities with bodies littering the streets as far as the eye can see nor pits where the dead have been pilled atop eachother haplessly as if they never even mattered. I've seen that. I've caused that. There's nothing a doctor or therapist can understand about it. They tell me to slow everything down when I start to feel overwhelmed by it all, the emotions and memories that plague me, and I tell them just breathing isn't fixing anything. I can't outrun something inside myself. I just can't. I wish it was as simple as that.