I Find it Difficult to Leave - Should have Left a While Ago

There was stillness in the rooms of her heart, yet she could feel a distant and fragile frenzy of madness, which was being constantly repressed. and she knew what it was all about. she knew how it would rapture one day, and spread in her being like fear, just like ink drop spreading in water. 
she knew about her oxygen, its origin, and the fact that the mere feeble numbing of painful retreats and painful regrets and painful set backs and painful held backs were the mere cause of her beauty, her sanity,her humanity, her sense of morality. she felt the need to be battered and bruised and black and blue all the time, for the air to feel her scars, so that she could feel her small breaths just like big things, like love.
and so that she could feel things even smaller than her breaths.
like grains of cloth.
and the feel you feel when you touch it.
simple and simple enough things.
and she wanted her pains to be bigger.
simple enough a demand from life.
so to feel small things.
like her random moments.
and the moments of passing-byes.
and the moments of remembrance.
simple moments, of sun shines, terraces, stones walls, wood, mud, history and past.