i want to talk to someone, but i know that it'll make me cry. and i can't cry, because i haven't cried in this house since i was in elementary. crying is not acceptable. sadness is not an emotion here. there is nothing but eyes on screens and flashing blue lights reflected in dilated pupils. i don't even know what will happen if i suddenly burst into tears. will they ignore me? will they tease me? will they care at all? i can't tell you how many times i've subtly slinked into the bathroom just to cry. one hand pressing my collar to my mouth, stifling any sounds, the other digging into my knees. i never let myself break, not really. there's always a point where tears become sobbing gasps for breath. and when that point hits, you have to wait in silence for at least 15 minutes for the redness in your eyes to disappear. so i release it little by little, but it always piles on. sometimes, i can't even cry. the tears won't come, so i'm left sitting on the tiled floor, breathing heavily, trying to think of things that will blur my vision and pull out the cork in my throat.
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Open To Interpretation
PoetryThis is a collection of some of my old poems, short stories, and other writing that I created a few years ago, while I was going through a really rough patch in my life. I wanted to publish it back then, but this is the best that I can do for now. E...
