Sobbing in the bathroom with the door locked, hand over your mouth in order to not make sound and alert people hits different. It's that kind of shattering pain that you don't truly understand until you experience it.
But, it's coming out of that bathroom after having dried your eyes and having someone ask "why do your eyes look like that? Have you been rubbing them again?" To which you reply, "yes." Because if they can't even tell you were crying, then what's the point. What's the point in telling them if you'll only cry more. There is no point.
No one's going to ever understand.
Alone.
YOU ARE READING
Alone
Short Storya place where I let my inner demons write a journal written by the darkest parts of me **marked mature because it's not pretty **random updates
