Dimly lit by light of her screen, hair tucked behind her ears and wrapped tightly in her blanket. Her pale face without a trace of the enthusiasm she shows her world. Headphones in, but no music plays. There’s nothing but silence surrounding her. Gritting her teeth and occasionally biting her lip she tries to make sense of her thoughts and feelings.
The dark circles under her red swollen eyes betray more than she wants to tell. With her mask off and no one around she breaks. Everything that had been building up that day, no even from before, comes flooding out. She wants to scream out for help or… say what she knows to be true. She fiddles with her accessories and occasionally touches her wrists.
She’s cold, lonely, numb. I shouldn’t bother others with my feelings, she says to herself. She feels worthless, a failure. It will get better she repeats over and over, but she can’t convince herself. She closes her eyes and sighs, the temporary relief gives way to crack of smile. It’s quickly put down by memories that make her cringe.
“Ugh, I’m so stupid.”, “I shouldn’t have done that.”, “What will they think of me.”, “No wonder I’m alone.”, these are the things that shout trough her mind whenever she recalls her “regrets”. All she really wants is to relive them, they’re happy memories after all. She longs for them so much it hurts.
She shifts around and lies down staring at her phone, lost for what to do. She has to write off her feelings, but not in a way where people will know what’s going on. That would be a disaster. Going past all her social medias she finds none that fits and instead almost automatically checks her apps. Sifting trough her subscriptions only watching for a minute before clicking the next video. She’s looking for something to entertain her, to grab her, though she doesn’t know what.
It’s not like she has nothing to do, in fact there are plenty unfinished tasks that reach their deadline soon. Meanwhile she tries to escape herself and the world around her. Reading, writing, watching something, anything to keep from overthinking. Toxic to herself this has become her routine. Numbly repeating the same useless activities, clasping desperately to her sanity by walking on the edge of reality. While others compliment her strength she colapses all alone.
Silence can be a razor sharp blade…