Emotional Torture.

Airplane Mode.

I've been told before; my wavering feelings were too big a burden to be thrown on anybody's shoulders, every time I spoke my mind or turned up the volume on my thoughts I was hit with a response so piercing it rang in my ears for years. They always put me on mute.

I will never be able to wipe it from my mind, the way my cries were dismissed and forgotten about, brushed under the excuse of "She's too emotional for her own good."

Eventually, when I've realized that communication always leads me to my one true fate, heartbreak, I learned to jot my hurt down on paper and bottle it deep in the locked parts of my soul. The parts I dare not touch, the ones without a key.

I get upset a lot more often than I'd like to admit, I read texts I never wanted to receive and listen to words that burn whatever respect for humanity I had left. They always leave me more shunned than before because I simply cannot fathom that a person can actually get so cruel.

Thus, airplane mode became my best friend. The one habit I can't give up. I've registered that no one actually ever wants to hear about how I feel if they're the bad guy in the story.

Apologies are never sincere, the mistake always repeats itself. I don't want to connect to the world anymore.