An abnormal advent calender

m-29

(TW:selfarm)

Today I woke up feeling depressed. I didn't really know why; I was just sad and angry at the same time. While putting my clothes on, I started crying, but I didn't stop what I was doing. As I ate my breakfast, I was still crying, and it only stopped because I forced it—I couldn't put makeup on while tears were streaming down my face. I may have stopped crying on the outside, but inside, I was still crying. It felt like I wanted to vomit out my head and my feelings. I didn't want to see anybody, but sadly, that wasn't possible since I had school. On my way to the bus station, I put my mask on, or as people prefer to call it, "a smile." Today, I had to act like everything was okay. I didn't want people to see this side of me, so it had become a habit to hide it. Normally, it was an easy job, but today, I had to put in a lot of effort, and it made me even more tired. I went through the day using my best acting skills; it was almost like a game. I was playing a character that I wasn't. I could only feel like myself again when I got back home. I took my shoes off and walked to my bedroom. I connected my music box to my phone, pressed the play button on a playlist named "Sadlist," turned off the light, and lay on my bed. It was already dark outside, and my room was completely dark. I kept my eyes open, watching the ceiling.

The feeling came.

I was fighting it. I told myself that if I gave up, it would be worse afterward. I tried to think of anything else. The gray inside me was too much. I stood up and went to my desk. I took a "BIC" pen cap. I had given up. It was too hard. I scratched my arm. Red marks began to appear. It hurt, and as crazy as it might seem, I enjoyed it. The pain was my way of letting my emotions go. I knew it wasn't a good way, but in moments like that, I was weak. I didn't do it very often, only when it was too bad. I was scared of doing it. I was scared that if I continued, I wouldn't be able to stop. After I felt relieved, I put the pen cap back and went back to my bed. My arm hurt and had red marks on it, but I knew the marks would be gone by the next morning. I had told only three people about this shameful thing: my siblings and Charlie. When I first told them, I felt relieved. It was less pressure on my shoulders, and sometimes it even helped to know I wasn't completely alone in this. After 15 minutes of doing nothing, I stood up and left my room. In the kitchen, my parents were almost done cooking dinner. I didn't have the strength to put on a mask, so I just tried to smile a little more at their jokes when the meal started. The meal put me in a better mood. My family had been making fun of each other and having a competition to see who could mimic my father the best. It was a really enjoyable time, and with a real smile on my face, I went back to my bedroom to go to sleep.