I'm
dying inside, and no one is noticing.
Sometimes
it's so overwhelming I can feel the pain rising, it courses through
my veins and I cannot speak. I clench my jaw and I flex my fingers,
trying to erase the ache inside. It's as if there's a dark hole in
me, and it threatens to swallow everything. I tell myself that I'm
fine on my own. What does it matter if people come or go? I don't
need them around anyway, right? But it's a lie. People are always
leaving. I just wish someone would stay. For someone to be able to
see past these lies I've become. If you smile bright, they'll believe
anything you say. If you laugh and joke, they'll never see the pain.
They'll never see the emptiness that's threatening to crush your very
soul. Yet at the same time, there's a battle in my mind. A conflict
in my heart. Wanting someone to see, yet not wanting anyone to know
about the darkness that resides. What would they think? How could
they care? The disappointment in their eyes is not something I'm
willing to see. Both sides of the battle wage inside of me. Like
tectonic plates breaking in the sea. A rift so deep, so vast, so
dark, that no one would be able to survive. So I cling tightly to
this broken heart, and their jagged pieces cut only me. Pain
inflicting more pain. Sleepless nights and consistently red rimmed
eyes. I've managed to become the master of cover up this time. One
well contrived lie, and a bottle of concealer—there's no way
they'll ever really see.
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