Yellow || hs au

|62|

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One week. Seven whole miserable days I've spent wandering around my apartment like a lost puppy. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think and I don't want to talk about it. I'm trying to avoid looking at the door of my studio because every time I even catch a glimpse of it, I remember all of the art work behind it. All of those pieces hold such strong emotions that I felt for no good reason.

I feel lost in my own head. I don't even know how to go about anything anymore. My parents are divorcing, my mother is having an ongoing ten year affair and both of my parents let me think that I was the problem within our family and it's breaking apart. How could they let me think that for my whole entire life? How could my father just stand and watch as everyday got harder and harder? He just stood there silently, watching me lose myself day by day. It's not fair.

My whole life feels like a lie. I feel like I don't even know my parents anymore. I don't even know my own emotions. Everything I've been feeling for the past three months isn't because of my own insecure thoughts like I thought. It's because my own parents allowing me to take the fall of their own mistakes and their problems in their marriage. I can't even wrap my head around it. How could they do that to me, a six year old, and continue to play it off like it's nothing?

I'm second guessing everything. I told Sarah this story that I had made up in my mind when I was too young to know better and that's how I've lived. I'be based all of my feelings and emotions off of this story in my mind that's not even true. But I do know one thing for sure, is that my parents never loved me. If they loved me, they would've told me more, they wouldn't have let it get this far. They would've assured me that it wasn't my fault. They couldn't even love each other, let alone love me. And being okay with that is harder than I thought it would be.

My finger tips tremble against my lips as I slowly pace around my apartment, staring anywhere but that door. Somehow, no matter what I do, I keep remembering all of those pieces I made. All of those times I felt so alone and wanted to give up. But I didn't and instead I made artwork out of those feelings. Those feelings I didn't think I deserved to feel. And now they sit and taunt me through a closed door. It's pathetic, really. But I can't get myself to go inside. I can't face those feelings. Not right now at least.

   My fingers lace through my hair as I draw in a deep and shaky breath, migrating over to my sliding door where I stare out at the city. I've been locked away by myself, trying to understand everything. But I can't. I can't understand why my parents forced their lack of love for each other, onto me. I was a child, I needed them and they didn't want to be there for me. They're both selfish.

   My phone is dead, it has been for days. I can't find it in me to put it on the charger and I don't even want to. I don't want to see if my father texted or called me, I don't want to see Harry's unattended to calls and messages. I don't want to do anything but sit. I want to stop thinking and worrying. I want to stop wishing this didn't affect me like it is. I just want it all to stop.

   My parents divorcing isn't the problem and it's not what's bothering me. What's bothering me is that my mother was so selfish that she had an affair for ten years and projected all of that love for me, to 'Mike'. And my father knew about it the whole time. He never tried to talk to me or explain anything to me. When I asked why they never hugged me, both of them brushed it off as 'tough love'. It's not fair. I wanted to be loved and now I don't think I'll ever get that chance. It's too late.

I shake my head and glance over my shoulder as my door opens, revealing Harry who stands tall. His lean body furthers into my apartment, his face softened and concerned when he meets my gaze across the room.