I'm done. Done done done.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I could see how done I was. I could see how I had been done for a very long time, without being able to tell. I could see the bags under my eyes that I had desperately been trying to hide with makeup, and I could see that I hadn't really smiled in so long my face was starting to stiffen up.
Evan was gone. Out with a burst of odd reminiscing and incomplete explanations. I couldn't rely on him anymore, so what did I have? Nothing. Nothing. And I know you're saying, Oh, Maribelle, don't be ridiculous, you have parents who love you, you have ballet, you have school etc. But that's not enough anymore. Everything I do just feels like something to kill time, to occupy my thoughts so the darkness doesn't take over.
Everything I do feels like I am hiding from myself. Doing nothing. Wasting time.
And I'm so, so done.
YOU ARE READING
Dreams
General FictionEthan dreams of Maribelle, the beautiful and popular dancer, every night, but in his dreams she's not the same person as she seems to be in reality. Meanwhile, Maribelle struggles with facing an image of herself she has painted, one that she feel...
