"I'm tired," She whispered, her voice full of sorrow and hopelessness. She gave up on getting better a while ago.
"I don't sleep," A small smile spread across her face, "That's not true. I pass out to sleep. I wait for exhaustion to hit me," A quiet laugh fell from her lips, "Only then do I sleep. Sometimes, I hear them or see them. I miss the old days,"
"You smile a lot," He looked up, staring at her with eyes full of something, she couldn't tell what it was when she looked into them.
"No, you're not,"
"I'm fine. Really," Her smile widened, "Promise,"
She covered her mouth, a soft sob falling past her lips, the music flowing from her headphones vibrating her head. The words made her more sad.
It only took a few seconds.
A lone tear slid down her cheek, her hand falling into her lap, all emotion draining from her face.
It happened every time.
She'd try to cry, a tear would fall, she'd shut down.
Every. Fucking. Time.
"In the end, you will destroy yourself. You will self-destruct and self-ruin to the point that you will no longer function," He tried to reason with her.
"I'm fine," She scowled.
"I'm the light. I smile and laugh, and keep everybody else happy. If someone in the group is angry and the room is tense, I'm the one to take on the anger head-on. I take and take, until everyone is happy. Until everyone is joking and having fun. But, if you really look. If you really look at me, you can see me barely holding on, because there's just so much one mind,"
"How do you handle grief?"
She smiled at him, "I don't,"
"You... don't?" He questioned.
She shook her head, her eyes falling to behind his left shoulder instead of between his eyes. "No, I don't. I don't grieve. When we put our dog down, I grieved for months. I hated it, I was sick of crying all the time. So," She shrugged lightly, "I don't do it now."
- Writing Emotional Scenes
- JoinedJune 30, 2016