ECCENDENTESIAST
You see her?
She looks so happy. She's cracking jokes. She's smiling. She's having a great time. She's enjoying. and.. She's dying inside.
She's badly hurt. She's tired. Tired of people who keep on letting her down and treating her like shit. Tired of all the drama. Tired of all the bullshits. Tired of never being good enough. Tired of life itself.
But.. she doesn't want to look dramatic, weak and attention seeking. She's not that typical damsel-in-distress kind of woman. She keeps it all inside. She acts like everything's fine. but.. she comes home and she cries herself to sleep at night. That's why everybody thinks she's the happiest person they know. That she has no problems and her life is going perfectly. If only they know the truth..
She trusted someone before. She told that person everything. .. including her flaws and imperfections. She gave that person a chance to peek at what's inside of her. .. of what's inside her heart.
But she ended up feeling betrayed. She ended up feeling cheated. She ended up feeling like shit. She ended up feeling numb. .. feeling nothing.
She gave her trust but that person crumpled it like a piece of paper and threw it back on her face like it never meant something; like it was nothing; like she was nothing. People used her imperfections against her. They left her.
And here she is now, telling herself that she should've trusted her gut. She shouldn't have trusted them. .. but she messed up a lot. She does all these shits for other people. and then she woke up one day and felt.. empty. She felt nothing.
She tries to tell herself that she's not alone. and yet when she goes to bed and lies awake at night, her sadness envelopes her rather than her blankets. and her head.. oh, her head is guarded by a monster of thoughts. She feels the weight inside her chest. She realizes that her only friends at 3AM are the demons clouding up her mind. but when she sits up and looks around, the only person in there is herself alone. and the only person who cares for her is her. and the only person who understands the pain is her. .. and she is ALONE.
She says she's happy. She says she's fine But she's not.
When she smiles, it doesn't reach her eyes. When she laughs, her voice doesn't travel. She has always kept her emotions in a bottle. .. and all she ever wanted was to open it. She wanted to tell someone how she felt. She wanted to scream her lungs out until somebody notices the agony covering her heart. .. but she can't get out of the box of fear that is imprisoning her.
Every morning, she wakes up. Picks her sword; Puts on her mask; Takes in a deep breath; and prays to God that she'll have the courage to fight the pain that life keeps on throwing back at her.
She fakes a smile when all she wants to do is break down and cry. She keeps on trying to laugh whenever she's with her friends but when silence hits her like a bullet in the head, there she is.. .. all wounded up inside.
She has scars. Maybe not on her wrists, nor on her thighs. .. but on the little universe she created up inside.
She's ruptured.
— a.c.r, revised by r.g.d
