for an entire week opal decided not smile and show the real emotions that she had. her smile had always fooled people's eyes. they never noticed her pale skin or the night shadows that hid under her eyes.
people never notice anything, or they pretend to.
on this week's friday opal didn't want to spend it like the last one. the silence was one of her fears; it helped her thoughts to occupy her mind—unfortunately they weren't the best kind of thoughts. The only way to get them out of her mind was: to write them in her journal.
however, she decided not do it, not this friday at least. She once had visualized the future; her in her twenties holding her journal—her own mind. she imagined her reaction: shaking hands, fallen tears, and disappointment drawing her face.
on her way to the front door with a green apple in her hand, she heard her mother calling her name. she froze in her place; however, never turned to look to her mother's face.
her mother said: "i missed your smiles."
her mother never noticed.
opal dug her nails into the apple. her mother's voice was soft like silk, but opal tore it to shreds by replying:
"they were all fake."
and this was the moment.
YOU ARE READING
mute depression
Poetry"We choose our sorrows and our joys long before we experience them." © 2015 by NoiseOfSilence. All rights reserved.
