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The music blast in her ears as she pulls the hood over her head. She thens pulls the sleeves of the black hoodie. Even though tear threaten to spill, she blinks them away.
It's crazy, how you can be surrounded by someone people and still feel alone.
Her throat tightens while she stuffs down the anger. That pit of anger starts to burn. The flammable liquid traveling through her body.
As empty as she seemed to feel, there was a ounce of anger and annoyance. She laid out in the king sized bed and thinks back from her day.
The hooded figure came to the conclusion that it was anxiety. She thought absolutely that it was anxiety.
She thought she can change and be brave.
Lies
She couldn't.
She thought it would be easier to satisfy others then herself.
Her chest weighted heavily 2nd period. Doing everything but what she needed to do.
The day before she couldn't rest. A headache pounded in her head louder than a blaring drum on speakers at the 100.
The young girl laid on the bed on her back, trying to ignore the background.
Shrieking children and yelling adults got louder. Unfortunately for her headphones only get louder to a certain point.
Sighing she rolls onto her side and curls into a ball. Sleep eventually got to her.
YOU ARE READING
The Broken Truth
Randombro·ken ˈbrōkən/ verb past participle of break. adjective 1. Having given up all hope; despairing. "He died a broken man." Synonyms: smashed, shattered, fragmented, crushed, etc. {NOT EDITED} [COVER BY @ NFictionism] " I don't care anymore. Nothi...
