The Trick

You can't see it. You can't touch it. But it's so real. The burn. The freezing, searing burn. And it's always there. Always. You try to push it down. Push it back. Ignore it. Forget. But it's there. Waiting. Watching. And when the smallest, insignificant, near invisible thing happens to remind you, or even almost remind you-- it pounces, and it consumes you.

When it happens, you can't breathe, you can't move, you can't speak-- and you don't even want to. It fills you completely, so much that you don't think you could ever have room for anything else, and it feels like it's been there so long, you'd be empty without it. You don't remember what it's like to be full of anything but it. You no longer want to try remembering. You've given up on ever being rid of it. The burning. The aching. The fever. The red.

See, but there's a trick.

And the trick is to not mind.

Don't mind the sweaty palms or hyperventilating. Don't mind the insane heart beat or the water falling out your face. Don't mind the clenched fists or the nausea or the migraines or the vomiting. Don't mind the suffocating. The restlessness. The nightmares. Don't mind the hopelessness. Just. Don't. Mind.

And before you know it, it's gone. You can breathe now. Great gasping breaths of freedom because it's back in its dark corner and you're safe again. Back to a dull throb in the lining of your soul. Back where you promised you'd try to keep it the last time. Back just far enough that you can smile and say "Yeah, I'm good, how are you?" And no one would be the wiser.

No one would see the casualties. No one one would see the battlefield that just raged in your mind, exhausting you, crippling you. No one would see the struggle, the wounds, the bleeding, the tiredness, the poisonous thoughts all lying dead at your feet. All they'd see is that perfectly practiced smile.

The smile you work very hard on.

In your hand mirror in the bathroom, you tilt your head just so. And you smile and smile and smile and smile. Until it's not forced, until your muscles are so used to the motion it's a reflex. Smile until you almost believe it's a real one. Because if you can fool yourself than you can fool everyone else, and that's exactly what you're aiming for.

Because then they can't see that you're broken. That you're damaged, possibly beyond repair, and if they can't see it, they can't fix it. That's the last thing that you want. People fixing you. People prodding. Pity. You don't want any of that. You've got enough of your own.

So you smile and panic on the inside when Sasha mentions his name. You can't blame her. She never knew what really happened, and if you let her in she'd be the best friend ever, but you don't because you're ashamed. So ashamed. So you just pick invisible lint off of your sweater and smile.

After a while, you get into a routine of sorts. Wake up. Shower. Eat. School. Gym. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. You're pretty much on autopilot and you like it. The less you have to think about things, well-- the less you have to think. Your grades aren't as good as before, but not so bad that your parents feel the need to say anything. But they give you those looks when they think you can't see them. They know something is wrong.

You don't see the red so much, and some days you don't even think about it. Sasha helps without knowing it, distracting you, going on and on about this dress, that show, who's so hot, what not to wear at graduation... Every now and then she gets a real smile out of you. Things are good.

Then one day, you see him.

You've thought about this over and over. It was bound to happen, you go to the same school, you're both seniors, you have some of the same friends, the school is only so big right? You've analyzed every angle of this moment in your head only a million times. You take a deep breath, you can do this. You're even ready with your smile.

He looks your way. Sasha waves. You smile.

Smile and die a little when he walks by holding Emma Lee's  hand. Laughing. Happy. So naturally, you laugh too. Except you haven't practiced the laugh as much so it just doesn't ring as genuine. In fact, it sounds a little sad.

He notices and looks back at you.

His smile falters just a bit, and for a second-- Just one infinite moment, you think he might care. Your eyes lock with his. You're paralyzed. Afraid to blink.

His eyebrows crease and the memories are rushing at you with all their strength now. The letters, the class skipping, the midnight texts, the good morning beautifuls. The I'm leaving hers. The I love yous. The first dance, first kiss, first-- first everything.

His steps slow down and your heart is racing. You don't hear what Sasha is saying anymore. You don't hear anything. It's just you and his brown eyes locked in this emotional vacuum, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

He looks like he's about to stop, about to say something.

Sasha finally notices you aren't talking anymore, and you see her eyes drift from him to you then back to him. Emma Lee must have noticed something too because she also looks back at you, a confused expression on her perfect face. Sasha calls your name. You ignore her. Emma Lee says something that you can't make out, and you honestly don't care to know.

All you care about, all that you remember ever caring about is that he is looking at you, stopping. Loosely holding Emma Lee's hand, no longer smiling. Stopping. Looking at you.

Emma Lee says something louder. His name, you think. Whatever it was it yanks him out of his trance and plasters that devastating smile on his face. You blink and the next thing you see is the back of him and Emma Lee walking down the hallway. Laughing again.

"Man, those two have been together forever. Wish we could get guys like him" Sasha says, shaking her head.

You go to reply trying to think of something normal to say, but all that comes out is a horrid, guttural moan. You lean your head back against your locker. You can feel it rising-- the red. It's been a while since it was this strong. Your hands are shaking. You might not make it through after all. Sasha puts a hand on your shoulder, looking at you just like your parents do, and you almost tell her everything. Almost.

But then you remember the trick.

And just like that, it's gone. Just like him. And that's alright, you decide. Because you don't mind. And when Sasha asks if you're ok, you say "Yeah, I'm good" and smile.

***
I hope you enjoyed reading "The Trick"! Comments, questions, critiques? Let's talk in the comments!

A Thousand Smiles,

Saunders