Finding Me Again

Too Much

       It wasn’t always like this. There was a time where I was only ever alone by choice, which was not often. There was a time where nobody would have whispered about me- or at least not where I could hear. There was a day where I had been enveloped in the world everyone else seems so utterly fascinated in. But when it- the thing that we don’t speak about, that makes my mother cry and my brother shift uncomfortably- happened, all of that faded away. The pretty clothes were shoved to the back of my closet, uncomfortably balled together tightly, like cannons ready to fire. The photos were taken down and hidden, as if each memory could be erased from my mind as easily as they had been from my heart. Everything that reminded me of who I thought I was, who I had been… everything. Everything. It was gone, all of it. Disposed of in the proper manner, like cleaning chemicals after a chemistry lab. But no matter what I got rid of, I could still hear them whispering.

    Suddenly things looked brighter, and I knew he was there. He was looking, I could feel it. His eyes would glide over me all day, falsely indifferent, but all the while still so obviously loving.

“No,” I would tell myself. “No, it’s not, they’re not; he doesn’t love you anymore. He can’t. He deserves more. I deserve more. He left.” If I stopped reminding myself for too long, I would find my feet gravitating my body towards him, all of its own accord. I could still see the horror in his eyes, though. The distaste shone through the eyes that had always been filled with love, since the first day.

         I could still hear them whisper. And now I could feel his eyes on me too. I couldn’t do anymore today; I got up from my seat, threw away my untouched lunch, and walked out of the cafeteria’s back doors, out to my car.