Thursday, September 29, 2011

Questionable

Her pain became too much sometimes that she needed to lock herself away from the worlds for fear of doing something stranger and irrational in public. Oftentimes she on this facade of the perfect, happy-go-lucky girl next door. It was all a lie. She was a brilliant actress. No one suspected a thing. She was perfectly content with her boring life. School, work, home, friend's house, home. School, work, home, friend's house, home. Work, home, club, friend's house, home. Nothing ever changed. She was active. When she was at home she was completely helpless. Hopeless. Dead. She would sit in her bed, curtains drawn, music blasting, thoughts running wild. She had no one to confide in, because she couldn't put what she was feeling into words. Whenever she tried, people shut her down and shut her up. She was fine, they would say. She was just being dramatic. It was just a phase. It wasn't a fucking phase. This was her reality that they were calling a joke. They didn't know what it was like to not want to wake up in the morning. To hate having to fake her delight in seeing people. To force conversation. They were right, some days she was fine. She welcomed these days with open arms. She embraced them. They were rare, like birthdays and Christmas; they only came around once a year. Try as she might, she failed at every attempt to force these one time occurrences into weeks. She thought that if she could pretend to be happy for a week maybe she would actually start to believe it. Then she would sit down for one minute with her thoughts, which is when the darkness engulfed whatever glimmer of hope she had. It consumed her body, mind, and soul. It ate away at her optimism. It made her only think in negative terms. She was a realist. Nothing was ever perfect. That happy couple, full of shit. Those friends, fake. No one was happy. She was normal. Right?

What the hell was wrong with her? How come she could find no answers? Why couldn't she articulate the pain and confusion she felt? She only had questions. An abundance of fucking questions.  

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