Empty

I don't feel anything right now. I feel like crying but the tears won't come and I don't know why the feeling is there. I want to slip into the darkness that's hiding in the corners of my mind, but I can't. I've got things to do. I've got people to entertain. Must make sure everyone thinks I'm fine. Play the game. Laugh and smile and say I feel great. It's all a lie. But who will ever know? They don't read deep enough. They don't pay close enough attention. The signs are all there. The glassed over eyes that hold a blank stare. The scars. The weakness, dizziness, pain. But as long as I don't draw attention to it, they never notice. It's safer not to notice because if you do, you'll have to ask and if you ask, you'll know what you never wanted to. So I continue my facade. I laugh at people's jokes. I pretend to care about school. I talk about making plans. But all I really want is sweet silence and nonexistence. But I can never have that. I couldn't make things worse for people. They'd have to deal with my debt, and the funeral or the hospitalization. I just couldn't do that. So for now, I stick with the cuts. I hide in my books. And above all else, I keep pretending.