They keep telling me god tests those he loves the most, but isn’t he supposed to love everyone the same? I haven’t prayed in years but I talk to god every time the pain gets too much, every time he takes away a good person from this world. My words are fuelled by pain yet he still lights the match that burns me alive. When my husband brings me my pills, he unknowingly sends prayers throughout my body. When we’re in bed he asks if I want the lights on or off, I say on just so I can look at his face for a few more minutes. I ask him if I’m difficult to love and he says no, how could that be when you’re made of silk? I tell him my soul is starved of life now and sometimes I can’t tell if my chest hurts because my heart is breaking into pieces or if it’s just thrashing about to run away from what I’ve become. Winter holds me hostage every year. Ice seeps through to my bones and I get buried in the snow every time. It makes it hard to breathe and I don’t know what’s sadder- the fact that I don’t care  or the fact that I have to try so hard just to be alive.