↳ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

xxiv

i hurt.

i feel it in my throat, in my chest, in my lungs, in my guts.

and i'm tired.

i woke up this morning, as i've done every other morning, but today it didn't feel right.
  i showered, brushed my teeth, started my hair, then it hit me.

  i said goodbye last night, and only then did it sink in what i've done. what i've lost.
  i sat down on the floor, pulled my knees to my chest, and sat in silence. i closed my eyes, feeling all sorts of nothing.
  i didn't cry.
  i just sat there, with my eyes closed, working up the courage to open my eyes, stand up, and walk out of the bathroom.

  it took me awhile, but i finished my hair. and i was careful doing my makeup. i worked too hard on it only to cry and mess it up. but waterproof, just in case the tears do come.

  i joked around with my friends, laughed way too obnoxiously, flirted with a dumb boy who is trying way too hard.

my head hurts.

i couldn't focus in class. the instructor asked me to read something aloud, but i don't remember if i even got the words out of my mouth.
  and i can't focus.

  nine times i read this page, but i still don't know what i'm reading about.

  everything is pointless. eating, drinking, breathing.

it hurts.

  my lungs are rotting. my ribs are cracking, my heart is shriveled up and she whispers 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

  i want to scream. i want to cry. i want to tell you 𝘪'𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘥 𝘪 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘰𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘪'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶

  but i sit in silence, scribbling the same three words on a piece of paper until my wrist cramps and it's burned into the back of my brain: 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵.