Mirror Mirror Can't You See, What You Show Is Killing Me

It [Chapter 20]

This chapter is dedicated to my best friend, (Cassidy)( Andley123Kellic)  who recently moved. I don't feel as if I can function without her. I'm not even sure I want to try.

Do you ever feel like you're not a real person, you're just a creature cultivated by thought. After years and years of making everyone think they know me, I've become a hybrid. I'm not who I say I am, but I've lost who I really was. 

When I first met Kat, she took one look at me, and told me that I could always be honest around her. When she died, I spent all my time convincing my therapists that I was fine. In reality, I was dying, bit by bit. Now, I feel so empty, like a shell without anything to fill it. If someone hits me hard enough I'll crumble into dust. 

She always knew when I was lying. Everyone kept asking me if I was ok, I'd tell them yes, just tired. Then they'd sigh in relief and start talking normally again. It's funny how much people love to talk about  themselves. Kat called me on it as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

"Then why is you're mascara smudged?" She'd question, shooting me a pointed look. And then I would slip into my sadness, and she would be there to pull me back out. I miss her. 

But I digress. The point of this existential crisis? Walking through the halls of rehab, I keep hearing my name. I've been here a couple times, and all the regulars know me. But when I went to rehab the first time, I was so different. Crazed by the guilt of surviving, I made up this girl, this Caia, who took the place of the girl everyone knew. 

I figured, if I was a different person, then none of my old life ever happened. I convinced myself that I had never had friends named Kat, or Cas, or Abby. I convinced myself that it didn't matter. I made up stories, I told different people different reasons I was in rehab.  They all believed me. I made myself into a fearless girl, crazy and beautiful.

But the sad thing was, no one ever really got to know me. They all  thought that because I was fearless, that I was never scared. They thought I never cried because I was always laughing. It's been that way ever since, I'm just an idea, a concept to most people. They like the idea of Caia, not the actually person. I don't think they believe I am a person. 

But, that's the price you pay for living on borrowed time. Borrowed rope, borrowed heartbeats, borrowed smiles. None of it is real. Sometimes, it seems nothing is real. Not without them.

Every day of therapy is torture. The lady's nice and all, but she really doesn't get it. She thinks everything can be fixed if I cry enough and hug it out. She never allows me to talk negative, which is part of the problem. For so long everyone has assumed I was fine. At least with my therapist I was supposed to get to share how I really felt, but no.

I realize that my situation doesn't even come close to bad. I mean I have food, although I can't eat a bite of it. I have parents that while detached, don't hit me often. And I have a bed to sleep in. That same bed becomes my prison.

It's the curse of having too much time to think about it.