this complicated thing called life

~chapter one~

I can feel their eyes. Staring at me, and wondering what went wrong. My parents know it, my sister knows it. But what they don't know is that I didn't get better. That mental hospital made things worse. It had one thick layer of sweetness, but everyone there was sour. But that place at least hid me from all of the judgement. When we got back to my house my room was so bright it gave me a headache. They took away all of my razorblades and replaced them with encouraging notes. My closet was filled with floral dresses, and the only black item left was a sweatshirt. My walls were decorated brightly. I bit my tongue , trying not to say anything I would regret. I knew they tried to make me happy, but everything and every one in this house was so artificial.