It hits you unexpectedly.

Like the way that ball tumbled into your gut the first time you ever played soccer.

You’re walking down the street.
Peaceful.
Content.
And suddenly--
Bang.
Like a gunshot.
The impact. The damage. The feeling like the ache will never leave.
It hits you.

It does a war dance through your veins, contaminating your body with its arsenic footprint.
It travels to your brain, messes around with your synapses
and
now all that you can think about is what you don’t have.
Because until you gain the unreachable--
You are less than him.
You are not worth what she is.
You are nothing in comparison.
Nothing.

And after it hits you, it leaves an imprint.
It refuses to let you be.
It refuses
To
Let
You
Be

It paints every wall of your house green.
It looms above like that standard you just can’t meet, at every corner you try to turn.
It attaches onto your shadow, and grows bigger as the night grows old.

What it doesn’t tell you
is that it is not permanent.
It will leave when you reject its existence.
But you have to understand that its continuance to live, is only possible by your own accord.

It didn’t hit you that day.
You asked for it.