I am afraid.
How long have I been sleepwalking through this awful dream?
They all look away because that's what they're told to do.
I thought you might stay but things got messy as they always do and you knew that help couldn't be found in your words and it was maybe too much of a burden.
I am afraid.
Because those awful things finally caught up to me at home too.
My sketchbook lies unused because who knows what might happen if I'm caught drawing.
I'm not sure this is entirely deserved despite what I'm told to believe. I don't think this is it at all.
I am afraid.
The white halls and gray lockers feel less like tight walls and more of a place of salvation, more so than a house that might at any time tear itself down from the inside.
My heart beats to the thundering footsteps and slam of the front door.
Please don't get closer.
And what if you do?
I don't want to find out.
I am afraid.
Silence is almost as bad because I'm just waiting for the moment it shatters. The second where everything collapses and it jumps at me from the shadows.
I don't want to know.
The minutes pass like slow dripping molasses but not nearly as sweet. The sun goes on home, some place safer than here, and my eyes are glued to the clock.
I am tired.
Because that's all I know how to be.
I'm tired and I need to sleep or maybe it's a remedy to this constant fear.
I'm tired and I cannot sleep.
