Passive.

As a 5 year old, this one time I fell off the slide and bruised my knee. It bled for a long time. I cried. It hurt. But then Mum put a bright band-aid on it, kissed it and I was okay.

This time, I don't think I can put a band-aid on my hurt or have some one kiss it and make it alright.

"It's no big deal" they say. What do they know? How big a deal it is for me. No one could see what I had seen months in advance. I'm a lunatic. Why'd anyone believe me?

I feel ashamed of myself for thinking the way I do. For wishing for what I wish. For wanting what I want. But what am I to do? How am I supposed to react? No one tells me that.

I'm not supposed to complain. I made that promise to myself and believe me, I've been holding so much in. It hurts. There hasn't been one night that I haven't cried myself to sleep. Not one single night.

No one sees the hurt in my eyes. No one hears the pain in my voice. No one except Mum, I guess. Who still wishes she could kiss my boo-boo and make it okay. I secretly wish so too.

It's a mirror. It follows every thing. The way we are. I can't deal with this. But wait, I'm 19 years old. I shouldn't act like a baby. I should accept it. Just live with it. Let it invade me and take control. But I shouldn't binge. Not question. Not express.

Just stay pre occupied in my ephemeral happiness. Count days till it appears again.

Somedays I just wish I could erase everything. Just let it all fade into the dark. It will happen won't it?

I can't see it. Perhaps because this eternal film of tears is blindsiding me.

I can't be like this.

I just want to express!

Somehow.

The last word.

I contemplate.

I realize.

I ponder.

I hate.

Me!