They tried to held their head high, laugh as loud as they could. They had many friends, they were liked. And they were trying to be as productive as possible. They always had the answer for aby question, even if it was only partial.
Other people were describing them as likeable in weird way, because they were kind when needed and laughed with everyone all the time.
They were saying their goodbyes after yet another day in college and getting into their car. Whole ride home they were singing. They felt need to sing when their song were playing.
And then they were putting their backpack on the floor, closing their room's door and... And what?
There was only silence, fear, chocking on tears and worrying about future. And they couldn't stop. They were desperate, they wanted to stop so much. Because it hurt, it hurt so much. Their heart was being squeezed in their chest, they could barely breathe, constantly on a verge od tears. And there was the fear that ordered them to be quiet, because no one knew how their father was feeling that day when he was coming from work.
Would he scream again? Would it be that electrifying silence filling the room, waiting for that one spark? Or would he be laughing at some so called comedians whose humor was based on putting women and 'fucked up' people down?
No one knew. No one could predict. And so they've been scared once again. The fear they felt their whole life invading every part of their body.
They were often screaming too at everyone in the house, because they were never taught about how to talk about their feelings. They were taught that people talking about their fears and insecurites and crying was for pussies. And so they were scared even more that they were turning into their father.
And they were there for their friends, driving miles to pick them up and talk with them if they felt bad.
They felt constant cold. Surrounded by people, but never feeling their warmth. They wanted to feel warm for once in their life, but no. Shivering from the emotional cold, they went with their life, feeling constant empty darkness surrounding them.
But when they looked out od their window one Saturday morning they realised. No one cared.
If they didn't send text first, no one was checking up on them.
Their friends had their best friends and significant others. And so they never were anyone's first choice. They always were in the background, watching their friends.
Their friends weren't feeling good either, but when it was coming down to it, they were only for comforting and checking up on their friends.
And no one even bothered to check if they were okay.
They swallowed their tears once again, being taught their whole life that tears were the sign of being weak. And they never got the permisson to be weak.
No one cared about them.
They were no one's first choice, ever.
And so they carried with their life like that, living in the beckground, knowing that only the need of protecting their family from their abusive father was keeping them alive.
