how's it going?

I'm in physical pain. It's not just a metaphore, I'm not talking about a psychological suffering. My heart hurts, or at least something somewhere near the heart region, something hurts. It hurts when I breathe, it hurts when I laugh. Poetic, isn't it? And although I'd say breathing is quite important, laughing is almost more important to me. I laugh in the face of danger, I'm Simba again. Humor is my original and ultimate defense against every threat that flies towards me. I joke about shit, that's how I roll. That's how my repression works, how I avoid getting in touch with hurtful things. I can't joke about you, though. Can't repress this, it's an open wound. I'm desperate. I need help.

Give it time, I know. I've been here before, we've been here before. It will get better. But right now, I'd rather have a tree branch on fire shoved up my ass than this. I'm already fucked.