It’s hard to describe this.
It’s the urge to walk out into the road and hoping to get hit.
It’s resisting the temptation to step out past the yellow line on the platform, and onto the track. It’s holding yourself back from letting the train hit you.
It’s feeling slightly disappointed that your window doesn’t open wide enough, or that you room isn’t high enough off the ground.
It’s trying to walk away from the blade, and wondering if your hands will ignore the instructions being sent from your mind, telling them to pick it up.
It’s finding a reason to live, every minute of every day, and even when you can’t, you muster the strength to continue the fight.