State of Mind

Promise

People say what they want to say.

How can you stop them? There is no law prohibiting them from speaking what's on their minds. There are no rules telling them to bite their tongues, even though you wish they would until they began to bleed. There is nothing to prevent them from saying what they believe to be true, even if there is no tangible evidence to support their claims. Then again, who said they require corroboration? Words are words.

But words can cut deeper than a knife.

I honestly don't think they meant anything by it. I doubt they thought that what they said would create this troublesome of a problem for me. Maybe they even believed they were doing me a favor. But, I never asked for any favors. I never asked for any of this. This just happens to be how things are now.

This is my life. This is how things unfolded. This is how I am left to deal with the repercussions of their words.

Beep. Beep. Beep. I can only wish silence would envelop me...its soothing embrace holding me close like a mother's warm hug. Then maybe I could relax. Maybe my fingers would stop fidgeting with the wrinkles in my sheets and my breathing could even. Perhaps then I could close my eyes because they burn...they sting and water whenever I blink. I'm so tired. I don't remember the last time I slept.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to dull the burning in them. I want to sleep...that's all I want, but my mind won't stop replaying all their words. Their sharp phrases which slice through me like blades grow immensely, some of them becoming too muffled to understand. But I don't need to understand them to know what they're saying.

"You look like you've put on weight."

Only a few pounds.

"You should really work on your accent. It's hard to understand you."

I'm in speech therapy.

"That shirt doesn't suit you at all."

But I like it.

"Who would be into that kind of music? Well, besides you."

This is my favorite song.

"Your art is okay, but I prefer Sarah's. She makes colorful art."

I don't like colorful, though.

"What are those lines on your arms? Eww. Are you trying to be emo? That's not even a thing anymore."

It never mattered. No matter what I did or how I dressed, I wasn't allowed to just be me. At least, not without their remarks and 'advice'. I guess I could have blocked them out. I could have just ignored everything they said, but feeling their eyes on me, their observant glares gazing at me...they hurt. It was like I could feel their eyes staring through me as if I was translucent. I didn't like that. I don't like that. It drives me mad. I can taste their judgment lingering in the air with every breath I draw.

It's almost funny. They're not even here and I can still feel every last drop of their criticism still critiquing me as if I'm some art student's piece. It's ridiculous, really. I mean, why should I care? Why do I harbor any of their words? Why do I continue to hold them close to me even though all they do is cut and slice through me, making the blood drench my clothes? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

The door opens, a petite woman with golden blonde locks pulled back into a ponytail entering. She walks over to me, that smile on her lips drawn up. She's very pretty. I've seen her before...I know I have, but her name. I'm drawing a blank on it. What was it again? Heather? Hailey? Hannah? It starts with an 'H', I think. I can't remember.