She smiles until her face is sore. She giggles and flips her hair. She blushes and batts her eyelashes. She laughs and greets and hugs. All day long she's on an endless cycle of fake joy. Feigning interest in those around her and their seemingly trivial rituals is exhausting but she pushes through. One more fake laugh, she thinks. One more forced smile, she hopes. One more wretched hug, she pleads. Internally she cringes with every ounce of fake smiles. These people don't know her. They don't know how she really feels. They don't know her at all.
Tears seep into the pillow as she muffles her sobs. The quiet music croons in her ear as she prays for this lost and lonely feeling to disappear. She's out of tears for now but feels like she could scream or cry or vomit at any second. Her bed creeks as she tosses and turns in her bed. She reaches for her phone and scrolls through the contacts in search of someone worth talking to. Unsuccessful she tosses it to the floor. No one really gets her. Even her friends think she's weird. She's the black sheep. The drama queen. The dramatic. The emotional. The tragic. They don't include her unless they have to. Sometimes she doesn't mind, but others.... Other times, like tonight, the emptiness creeps in and fills all the spaces. Her heart seizes up and she blinks away the tears. She's all alone right now. She needs someone. But she's to scared to reach out, to be a bother, to annoy. She's terrified.
A space for me to empty my brain of all the poems, letters, and half-finished stories that swirl around in my head all day.
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