What is wrong with me? Why am I so sad? How can I have been so sad for so long without even knowing what it is I am depressed about it? Why am I so lonely and insecure? Can’t I bring myself out of this, come into myself and out of this bubble? Why am I despairing? I feel defeated and alone.
And I don’t even know why.
I feel like crying a lot of the time, but I only let it out when I am alone. I’m tired of crying into my parent’s shoulders, exasperated with what comfort they give and not wanting to worry about burdening them. And I have nowhere else to go.
These tears are so self-pitying and self-destructive. They are endless. They are lost. I judge them and suppress them.
When other people are around, I pretend things are fine. I know how to effortlessly turn a twinge of the heart into a smile. Disguising emotions is my specialty. When someone else comes near, my mind races: should I pretend? I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t. I know. But it’s easier… safer… They don’t want to deal with me. They must be tired of my constant unhappiness. Or maybe that’s me that’s tired.
The fake smiles are endless. I constantly hide my feelings and change my body language. I preserve my careful little illusion.
Nobody needs to know. Don’t bother them. It’s all not worth the effort. I haven’t changed and I won’t if someone else watches me cry.
So I sit and cry alone. Sometimes my parents find me crying, and they ask what’s wrong. But I don’t tell them. Not anymore.
I won’t even tell myself, assuming I even know what it is.
When my tears stop, I casually pull out yet another tissue from the box and wipe off the freshest tears. Streak to the bathroom and wet a towel and wipe the dry mask of tears off. I dry my face with the other end of the towel, and smile shyly at myself in the mirror. …Testing, one—two—three…
I’m ready to go.