A Girl in a Forgetful World

Crying in Secret

I'm beginning to think that

Maybe they're right...

And I hate myself for it. 

Maybe they're right,

Maybe I don't deserve to be happy.

Maybe I'm selfish,

Depressed,

In need of help,

Overly anxious.

Maybe I don't deserve his love,

And maybe...

I really am weak.

I feel weak,

I really do,

For crying in secret.

I don't open up to people;

I let the cold consume me.

I can't think of how I'd tell them.

I don't want to make them 

Depressed like me

Because I don't deserve that kind of love.

I'm crying in secret,

After screaming, 

"You don't love me!"

At him 

During one of our few phone calls.

"Maybe one day I will..."

He responds. 

I don't know why I'm surprised,

Or even why I'm hurt.

Haven't I always known

He'll never love me?

That he'll never care?

Why does it break my heart

So much?

I see the way she

Glares at me in the hallway.

I laugh it off,

And it really is funny.

Who cares what she thinks of me?

But,

Deep down,

I'm terrified.

Is she going to hurt me again?

Is she going to humiliate me,

Break me,

Dehumanize me?

Again?

The word is bitter as his kiss

On another girl's lips.

I'm shaken to my core;

My heart begins racing 

Whenever she's near me.

It's like a kind of PTSD,

Where I know what she's done to me, 

I remember exactly what she's done to me,

And I'm scared it'll happen again.

And here I am,

Crying in secret,

Begging for someone to save me,

But too scare to open up...

He knows everything about me.

Except,

We don't talk much anymore.

I miss it.

I miss him.

I miss what I thought was him.

I'm crying in secret,

In the dark,

With no one to hug me.

I'm crying in secret

Because I'm scared of

What people will think of me

When I drop the Happy Mask,

And they see the real face of me,

Stained with mascara tears 

Dripping from blotchy, red eyes.

I'm crying in secret,

Telling myself I'm weak 

And pathetic.

I'm crying in secret,

Wondering if anyone will read this.

Will anyone care?

I'm not a good writer,

I never will be.

Just.

Give.

Up.

All of these memories,

Words,

And thoughts

Sting me like a bee,

And hit me like a flash flood.

But,

What hurts most of all,

Is that I'm always crying

In secret.