I lie. I lie, everyday. Maybe my whole life is a big, huge, fat fake-it-all. I look at teachers, say I'm fine when they ask if I'm alright, chanting the mantra don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry in my sorry head. Smile at my parents, nod like everything's alright, like I'm not an aberration, a freak. Joke with my friends. Yes I'm okay, yes I'm normal, I'm funny, I'm just like you guys.
And then you look in the mirror one day. Your reflection has changed somehow without you noticing it. Until now. Your image is distorted, and you are not who you used to be. Are you just an empty shell, complete with bags underneath your puffy eyes, or are you someone entirely new? That's up for you to decide.
I would like to help you with your problems. I would like to be the stereotypical best friend with all bright smiles and fangirling squeals as you text your guy. But I can't. And oh, how I wish I could be that person.
(I wish I could be strong, just for you. But I'm always the weaker one out of both of us. So even if I were to let you cry on my shoulder, I would probably be crying first).
On days like this I have to remind myself to cover up after myself. On days where I want to avoid you, the source of all my problems, you come to me. And I hate myself for being so indecisive about all of this, because here is the truth. I don't want you to come to me when I push you away. But at the same time, I want you to pull me closer. And I guess that's the hardest part of all. The confused emotions, the I-Don't-Want-You-To-Care-But-In-Reality-I-Do, the H O W D O I L E T G O? The I-feel-empty-without-you.
I am an eccedentesiast in the truest sense. I think I do know everything I need to know about you - the way you always double-knot your Converse. The way you pick at the edges of your frayed jeans. How you love teasing me.
Somedays I don't have to fake a smile. Like today. You came to me when I didn't expect you to. It's funny how things fall in place when you're expecting the worst. In the afternoon, under the hot swelter of the sun, we'd sat on the bleachers, watching the soccer players run about. And I was happy even if I wasn't really listening to what you were talking about, because I was too busy getting lost in your voice, your exasperated sighs, your coy smiles, you. I didn't have to fake a smile as I looked at you, wondering how I'd gotten here, to this point. Sometimes don't we all wish that we could retrace our steps, go back to how things once were? Like looking at the person you love and seeing a complete stranger.
I listen to you talk about boys. How some of them irritate you, how cute or hot some of them are. When we are alone, I still have to act happy. But not as much as I have to when we're with our other friends. When we're alone, I laugh at all the right times, comfort you when you need it, even when my own heart is barely holding itself together, even when nausea bubbles up every time you mention his name.
I will be there, I promised. And I will, I always will. Because I have never lied to you and I will not start. It's fucking impossible to lie to you anyway. You see through my web of lies, the network of smiles I have constructed, built around myself to keep others away.
You see everything, except one little detail, the one that matters the most.
