so much better off.

thinking.

Life in my room is pretty boring. I mean, it doesn't have to be that way, I choose to make it that way.  The pale blue shades are always closed, the light is always off, and my plain white comforter is always pulled up to my neck, and sometimes, over my face. I just can't tolerate the thought of going out into the world as a normal, fully functional human being. I enjoy the comfort and dark surroundings. It makes me feel as if I'm protected from anymore heartbreak even though my shattered heart can't be fixed. I'm still picking up the broken pieces from the last injury to the heart.

Although everything hurts, I try, just barely, to live like the average person would. Except for going outside and socializing of course. I sometimes eat, not always. I despise food. When it comes to heartbreak, you either eat too much, or not enough. And I'm the type to just not eat at all. My mom is worried because now I'm now below one-hundred pounds. I'm not really worried about anything at this point. I'm usually either angry or sad. There is no in between.

By now, I'm used to my mom pleading and sometimes even crying for me to move on and get my life together. And I can only respond with, "Impossible", because that's the only word that I can manage.  It's the only word that can apply to whatever she wants out of me.

"Honey, please just take your medicine. That's all I ask of you.", I could tell that she was sobbing, even if it was coming from the other side of my door. I feel selfish for refusing but I don't want them. They're hard to swallow and nasty to taste. And that sentence seems to sum up words that both I and people speak. Words are like medicine. They can have a good effect, a bad effect, or no effect at all. The pills that everyone around me are trying to shove down my throat are ineffective.

The same question I ask to myself every day is "Why am I like this?" But there are many answers to that question. Too many, actually. At the same time, I think I'm just being overly sensitive... thoughts started flooding my mind. They were so loud, almost as if they were screaming, that I couldn't hear my mom's loud banging on my door. "Ava! Ava! Ava Julie Winters! Open this damn door right now so I can make sure you're okay! " I ignored her begging and turned over in my bed trying to get the screaming to go away and just like that, it was silent. My mother's knocks stopped. The thoughts were gone.

I decided to sleep the rest of the day away so that I didn't have to worry about the thoughts coming back.