I accidentally spilled. I'd been holding it in for so long that I spilled everything. I told her everything.
But it was the completely wrong person. My drama teacher wasn't exactly the first person you would go to and she hadn't been for me either. I'd been having a friendly conversation with her and the Teaching Assistant, when I suddenly let it slip about the suicidal thoughts. On the inside, my heart was beating like a drum and the butterflies in my stomach were making me feel like I was going to puke. My hands begun trembling slightly and my throat had gone dry. But on the outside, I was laughing nervously as I watched her send the TA inside to watch over the other kids, my leg bouncing in anticipation.
Then she made me tell her everything. She didn't force me to. It was just that I had been wanting to talk to someone about it for so long that I'd just kind of let it all out. Dumping the weight of my thoughts on someone else felt so liberating that I couldn't stop. Because before then, I'd thought the only way out was to kill myself.
And so we talked and talked for hours, unloading problems and experiences on each other and I saw the world slightly clearer than I'd had before.
Then the inevitable end came and the dreaded words came from her mouth.
"You have to tell your mum." I panicked. I didn't want to tell her. I felt like I'd be letting her down. My mum had always seen me as the more independent child. I rarely asked for things or got in trouble so she never really had to worry about me before. I didn't want to make her worry. I felt like I was betraying her trust. Betraying her. And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did that to her. If I added more stuff to her already stressful life. I felt like I would only be a burden to her.
And then my drama teacher told me that if I hadn't told her in two weeks, she was going to tell her herself.
And the whole time, I pretended to smile, pretending to agree with her. Because the only thing I didn't tell her was about the smile.
And it was gonna stay that way.
-💀
YOU ARE READING
Faking Smiles
Short StoryI'm depressed. I'm unhappy. I want to die. The only thing stopping me from ending it all is pretending I'm okay until even I think it's true. But you wouldn't know that. Because you never bothered to ask. *Trigger Warning*
