This has to stop, I tell myself. I can't keep dragging myself down into this hole. I feel so alone, and talking has become a chore. I sit to myself in silence, sleep most of the day away, and try to hide my existence from the world. I feel so lonely, and the pain associated with this never ends, it gnaws at the back of my head throughout the day like a fly that won't go away.
They tell me to smile, to suck it up, to ignore my brain. I can't. Instead, I ignore them. I isolate myself from the outside world and from the people who know me. But, in reality, no one really knows me. I don't talk to the people I call friends and family about what is going on in my head. They don't understand. No one understands.
I just wish someone could understand.
YOU ARE READING
The Story of Us
PoetryThis is a story that holds more truth than fiction, written in verse and short stories.
