self-destructive empathy ; setosolace

6

Sometimes I like to compare myself to a balloon. At first glance, it might sound stupid. Comparing myself to an inanimate object is of the upmost stupidity. However, the more you think about the comparison, the more it makes sense.

The tightening feeling in my chest when I hear all of Ty's friends speaking from the living room is the same as a balloon being inflated. It's constricting against the thin borders, and if you inflate it too much it'll explode. It's just like my emotions. People call it "bottling them up," I like to think of it as "inflation." And no, not the fetish kind.

Balloons stay inflated for a while before they begin to dissipate. It might take a couple months, but it'll eventually lose everything that was previously inside it. The balloon is still the same balloon, but it's just deflated. It's kind of like my emotions, except they don't dissipate after months. Maybe they'll (my emotions) be gone within a week.

I've been sitting in my room for a while now. I'm trying to ignore all the social activity that's going on. I closed my door, plugged in my headphones, and just worked on commissions. I've mailed all the hand-made ones I finished, and now I just need to get the digital ones done. I should have around $500 to $600 by the end of the week. If I'm lucky, it'll be more. But I'm trying not to overwork myself like I'd normally do. I don't have to worry about the rent anymore for the next six months.

I'm working on drawing a falling rose when I hear my stomach growl. It's a loud one that fills up the empty space in my room. I wish I could afford a mini-fridge and a microwave in here so I didn't have to leave my room. I'm too nervous to go out there, especially if it's one of Ty's new friends. He likes to introduce me to people in an effort to "get me out more." He's aware of my nervous tendencies and labels it as anxiety. I don't see it that way. I'm just nervous.

I try to simply ignore my empty stomach, but it keeps growling at me. It's like a dog that won't leave me alone. After a couple minutes, I eventually give up on drawing and decide that it'll be nice to have a small break. Maybe I'll just heat up some ramen noodles and bring them to my room. Hopefully they won't explode in the microwave again. That would definitely be embarrassing.

I give myself a pep-talk (is that what people call it?) before heading out of my room. It's more of a panicky reassurance to myself, but regardless it made me feel a bit better. I'm strolling down the hallway, taking deep breaths, and speed walking into the kitchen. Please don't notice me, please don't notice me, please don't notice me.

I'm praying to whatever god right now as I stumble on getting the ramen noodles out of the cabinet. I try not to make any noise, but my vision is blurred and my heart is pounding out of my chest. It's like someone's kicking a soccer ball over and over again in my chest. Unlike a soccer ball, no one will notice my heartbeat or question where it went when you accidentally hit it out of bounds.

"Oh, Brice!" Ty shouts out. I feel my whole body freeze at the mention of my name. I try to ignore him and pretend I didn't hear him, but he comes running to me. He forcibly turns him around and for the first time, I see who he brought over. It's just one person sitting on the couch. When my vision clears, I'm ready to vomit.

It's the same brunet from the library.

Sometimes I wish I could be a balloon. Poetically, I do act like one. Another reason why I'd want to be a balloon is because no one would expect me to speak. I mean, you'd be considered a crazy person if you tried to talk to a balloon. No one expects anything from you, and you're only put there as a display. People forget about your presence. You just float around minding your own business.