The first word that comes to mind: heavy. Like a weight wound tightly around your heart, it pulls down and your heart struggles to beat. It take as much energy to breathe as it does to stand, and you can never get enough air.

The scissors are right in front of you, and it’d be so easy just to cut away the strings squeezing at your heart, but somehow self torture, self righteousness seems a better step than to reach out for help. We mustn’t be beholden to anyone after all, and you can just as easily tear the strings with your own bare hands.

Except it’s made of barbed wire and if your hands are bleeding, you don’t notice.