Your emotions are meaningless.
As I sat on the cold marble floor of my bedroom staring at the blood-stained towel not a single sound could be heard from me apart from the sniffles and the stifled cries. I try to cry out, but I’ve trained myself a little too well. Tears pour down my cheeks. They won’t stop. Why can’t I stop crying?
I picture myself at the beach on a freezing night in the dark, alone. I scream at the top of my lungs until I collapse on the sand. I want to end my life.
All I can think is that I will be composed and cool come Tuesday, when school resumes. Three-day weekends aren’t always so fun.
Tempting is the thought of calling someone. Anyone. But my training would interfere. I’d put on a fake smile and say, “Oh hey! I’m so sorry. I called you on accident.” The smile would fade and I’d be unable to say anything more. My lips are sealed shut. I can’t admit anything, ever.
Accumulation of emotion. I can’t… hold it in anymore. I need help. But don’t offer it, because next time you ask how I’m doing, my automatic response is, “I’m fine.” Really, I am not. I’m never fine. Never take that answer from anyone. Pretend you care and next time someone says they’re fine, ask them to elaborate. There’s always a story behind it.
I’ll just fade away now. I’m burning on the inside.