I place Mark, my guitar, back on his stand. Of course, I'm just an idiot at playing guitar.
I climb up to my "chamber" upstairs, sitting on my bed, my head in my hands. Why does that have to be in my life? Why can't it just disappear? All this hiding, it's just making me feel worse. I hide under my blankets after closing my door, sobbing.
The next morning, I look in my mirror. My face is pale, just as normal every morning when I wake up. I glare at my glasses, dirty from tears. I look at my face, covered in stress acne. Thank god it's a free weekend. No stress put on my from school.
I walk downstairs in my Pajamas. I walk over to my computer, drowning in garbage on my desk. I flip it on, and immediately go onto my e-mail to talk to Mark. He's one of the few people I still feel excited to talk to.
Rest of my day went pretty smooth. Nothing much went on. The only thing I have in my head anymore is that stress.
(Note: I'm not going to explain what I mean by "that" until.. the overcome occurs. So, expect a bit of confusion unless you already understand. It's just private.)
