I don't know.
I don't understand.
My friends are having an amazing time, and I'm near tears and wanting to cry in the bathroom stall next to the mysterious talcum powder.
I miss them, and I don't know why.
My mind is running with how I could've ditched this and stayed the whole weekend at Fred's but the rest of me is saying how I'm horrible for even thinking it.
It's painful.
It's scary.
My mind is suddenly filled with how I'm terrible, how I'm the reason no one wants to see me, and while these thoughts enter and leave, only to replace one another, I'm shoving my face into a blow up alligator. I'll fake my happiness the whole night just so I don't disappoint my friends on his birthday. Just so that I'm not the attention whore like normal.
I've always desired attention, as if it was a sweet on the highest shelf that I was always to small to reach, until my brother would reach up and give me the sweet, paying for it and going to the park after.
I was raised that way.
To be the centre of attention at all times, to make people fall for my charm and personality. To let them take it away as well.
That was the repeat for so long, to always have something funny to say and to always, always be overdramatic.
It's still engraved into my brain that I must do that. I still have to be sarcastic and snarky with every little remark someone says.
So while we are sitting inside stealing our buddies drink, I try to breath and not want to die. I want to be happy for the birthday boy but my dumb mind isn't letting me.
I ask for some air, going outside and taking in deep breaths while still acting hyper in front of everyone.
They Can't Know.
They aren't allowed to see that my heart is snapping each blink I do or each movement I make, they can't see how much I'm dying.
I'm still breathing but now it's slightly shaky, it's painful.
It's confusing.
5/5/18
