Physical pain

With the impact of steel lightning on my chest, I awaken.
It was a staggering attack, one that proved how strong my opponent
was, if one can drive through a person’s chest that easily. But it wasn’t a
strike born out of anger, or desperation. A singular thrust delivered with
no wasted energy, one that would slide easily in between bone and sinew.

It wasn’t the pain that hurt me. Rather, it was the feeling of me being
ripped apart, and the sound of the knife plunging deep, deep into my heart.
That incomparably bittersweet fear. My body shook and trembled at the
thought of it. My silent weeping contained my uneasiness, my loneliness,
my will to live. My tears aren’t from the pain either, or from the fear of the
encounter. It was for the brush of death that I had never before experienced, but had now fallen in love with, even though I pray every night for the strength to live.

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