Me

Walls Crash Down

I feel emotionally numb and then while I'm riding the bus to school at 6 am I feel all my walls crash down for a bit, but I can't cry. I can't show my weaknesses. I can't let it out. I can't let it out because if I do I'll let put everything I've been bottling up for years. I'll cry and break down about all the things in my life that go wrong and for every depressing thought I think. I'll cry for my aunt who I didn't shed a tear for after she died of cancer. I'll cry for every time I feel like I don't want to wake up when I finally manage to go to sleep. I'll cry for my friends and family, who think I'm okay, who think I'm fine. But I'm not fine. Not even close. I haven't been to a while now. But I don't tell anyone. Not when I stopped keeping a smile on my face constantly, so long ago I forget how long it's been. Not when I started hiding myself away in my room when I was at home. Not when my mother asked the doctor to test me and see if I was depressed. Not when I lied and said I liked school and I felt fine. Not when I started eating a lot or not enough but almost never in between. Not when I could have said something. But I do say something. I say it when I sing my favorite songs when I'm alone. I say it when I write in my notebook that no one can look in but me. I say something when I write a locked file in the notepad app on my phone. I say it when I draw in my drawing pad, but these drawings no one else sees. You see, I say something every day, it's just a silent scream that falls deaf to everyone's ears. A scream frozen in my lungs before it's ever heard, because I'm addicted to my destruction and I killed the girl I used to be, the one who was happy and replaced her with the perfect mask. No one questions it. I make good grades, have great friends that I have a good time with, and I do all the things I used to do. I still eat and shower, read and draw, and even sing and write, but it's all a facade. I killed the girl I used to be, and now I'm living in her body.