Everyone finds their healing somewhere

They say black don’t crack but sometimes I wonder if that saying applies to me after so much pressure has been applied to me.

I literally have dreams where although the bags under my eyes were achieved from great expense, the lines that follow resemble something you’d see at Walmart as they call out for help but are forced to be patient until check out time arrives and they realize that they forgot the one item on their checklist that they need the most. Oh well, I guess we will just have to start over.

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Time ticks but the only bomb about to go off is not one that can be seen by the average eye. No binoculars, microscopes, or telescopes could ever identify this untraceable explosion bound to take place.. The only doctor who could save me does not need to wear a stethoscope around their neck to listen to the weakness of my heart beat nor do they need to run any test to understand why my heart bleeds.

Everyone finds their healing somewhere. I don’t necessarily think I’m above a pill downed by a glass of water but I do have the fear of being below it as my corpse rots in the ground and the roses left on my headstone symbolize the everlasting love I developed to a remedy that would eventually be the death of me. So... I refuse to go to a doctor. Instead I go to church. I know how crazy it sounds. How dare I trust the God who created me to save my life?