I know you want me to say something, anything. I just can’t comprehend the enormity of this matter. I can’t see how it’s going to change my life. I don’t want to see. My stomach is tense. Everything has been so tense these past couple of weeks, but I’d never admit it out loud.
You want to know what I think, how I feel, if it hurts. “I’m fine.” I say. I’m fine. Have I ever said anything else? I don’t remember, it seems cloudy.
You don’t accept my “I’m fine”’s, you never have. I must have used them too many times. You push for more answers, but I’ve had so much practice that holding them in for a couple more minutes is nothing. A jolt runs through my body when I realize how much I’ve kept in me. How many times I’ve said “I’m fine” when I wanted to kill. How many times I’ve dug my fingernail into my skin so I won’t cry. How many times I’ve blanked out so I won’t have to listen anymore. I wonder if I’m even capable of emotions after years of erasing the expressions on my face.
“What do you feel about this?” you ask again. Why do you want me to say more? Can’t you tell I don’t feel like talking about this subject?
“It’s alright.” I say to appease you, to get you to shut up. I don’t like confrontation. I don’t like eye contact. I seem to be faced with both those problems now. I look down at the ground to escape from your gaze, but when I look up again, your eyes are still transfixed on mine. Stop! I think, stop looking at me!
I’m trying to save you. I don’t want you to find out what I’ve kept inside all these years. I’ve worked so hard to create this personality and I’ll be damned if it is all going to come crashing down now. Don’t make me destroy this person you love, because then you’ll be stuck with just me.
It’s times like this when I wish I could fly. When I wish I wouldn’t have to deal with problems. I’ve survived all these years because I could change myself to make things run smoother. I’ve lost a part of my soul, my heart. I feel incomplete.
I realize that I’ll never be normal. I’ll never stay in one spot, I’ll never be able to express my real self, and I’ll keep living these damn lies.
I’m thinking all these things at once, but my brain feels like it’s not working, nothing’s moving. I wish I could hold my thoughts. I’d put them in my cupped hands and the world would make sense. Everything would fall into place. You’d tell me I’m wonderful, and I’d believe you. You’d be proud, and I’d finally feel a sense of accomplishment. You’d do anything for me, and I’d feel loved.
It’s falling. The sky is falling. I rub my eyes and I push until it hurts. It will keep me from crying, from thinking too much. Someone told me that I was deep. I didn’t believe it. Besides, it wasn’t really me who was talking to them.
I know you’re trying to escape from me. My silence has made you uncomfortable. You haven’t begun to feel the discomfort I’ve felt all these years. Part of me wants you to suffer. I want to see you cry all the tears I’ve held back.
I don’t believe that any of this is happening. It must be a dream. I’ll wake up, I always do.
Someone told me I was deep. They were wrong. I’m just messed up.
