LILY WHITE

FIFTEEN

LILLIE

Every couple minutes, I can feel myself stop breathing. Like another part of me dies every time the pendulum makes its rotation around my soul.

I hate that it has to be this way, that I have to distance myself from him. I can't lie to myself, I have to protect myself first, be my own guard dog. I haven't a clue what this feeling is, what is between Tommy and I, but I can't trick myself and say it's love. It's not possible.

I bang my head on my wall when I can't breathe, it helps it come out easier, the frustration, the sadness. Sometimes I scream a little bit, but I don't know if the noise is really coming out or if it's just the squealing of my brain suffocating.

I don't hear a noise the entire day, not even the noises of the waves, everything is so silent, like my ears have been cut off and now it's only me and my own lonely head.

I try desperately to distract myself. I keep hitting my head to keep the plea of despair out. I try to get fresh air outside by opening my window and lighting up another cigarette. It doesn't keep me distracted because it reminds me of Tommy, of the nights we spent together, cigarette lit, on my roof.

I throw away the cigarette early and go back inside.
Crying like a baby is how I spend the next couple hours, it makes my eyes sting and makes them so very tired.

I fall asleep where I was left, on my cold floors. I slept there the whole night and even though I was wearing something warm, everything felt frigid, like winter came and I was in Alaska.
-
The next morning I wake with fingernails pressed into my arms. I had slept at night holding myself so tightly that they left marks.

I still didn't want to wake up, I wanted to stay asleep forever. I sit on my floor for a couple more minutes and feel my face tighten as the tears come back. When the tears come back everything else does too.

And I get angry. I am so upset with myself for being this way, for never being able to have anything other than isolation. All my work is done through my own thoughts and feelings, I am alone when I make my songs and when I read or sing. I've always been alone and will always be, and I can't change that.

No matter how many people have tried, I have never let them in my world. Tommy is the only one that has been inside. Inside of my body, inside of what my existence is, really in my life. It scared me, when he kissed me, because I knew that he would now be tattooed on the skin of my life forever.

I hate that I can not have that forever, that I know that it never lasts. I hate that I know that things hurt me more than they hurt anyone else, that I can't ever have anything great at the risk of losing it in my grip.

After minutes, maybe hours, I can't tell time anymore, of crying, I get up. My legs feel weak, wobbly, I am. My body feels fragile, my stomach twisted in several knots like I might vomit. I feel heavy with the noises stuck in my throat, weighing me down.

My feet touch the dark teal tile in my bathroom, the patterns in the curtains and towels making me dizzy. I splash my face with warm water, the water is salty from my sobs as the water runs down my face and into my mouth.

I brush my teeth in the shower. I sit down in the tub, letting the water hit my face and my body. I don't know how long I lie there for, with the toothbrush in my mouth. I don't have the courage to move, the energy to live doesn't live inside me anymore.

I'm tired, it's not fatigue, but it's exhaustion. I've felt too much, it's worn me out, all the feeling. It's the most I've felt in a long time. I've trained myself to stop being so sensitive. I've gotten good at not getting hurt by insults or other words that got thrown at me.