friends with walls.
When nobody else is there I can forget it, lose myself in mundane tasks and television. It's when someone else is around, expecting you to be a person. That's when it's most apparent that you are not.
I don't think it's really a matter of what I can or can't blame it on. I'm just someone who's mostly nothing.
I escape to the bathroom and surrender to a monsoon of sobs that had been accumulating in my chest like a boulder hanging from my heart. I'm startled at their number and intensity, all the while praying no one can hear. But, at the same time, maybe that would be for the best. Maybe they'd provide me with the answer to this equation and tell me why all of this is so silly - this mess in my head.
Because maybe it is silly. Maybe getting back to and making plans with people isn't really that hard. Maybe every single awkward situation I find myself in isn't entirely my own fault. Maybe I have just as much energy as the next person and simply lost it and can't remember when I had it last. Maybe everything I'm sad about is just one big silly delusion.
I look in the mirror and for some reason think of those Magic 8 balls that used to be somewhere in everyone's house. You'd ask a question and then shake them and the little triangle would stare at you from the tiny circular window and say something like, Outlook not so good. And then you'd wonder, Why do we own this? I felt like one of those Magic 8 balls, filled with nothing but water and bad news. I look at myself again, take note of my crooked eyes and how I'll probably need to stay in here a few more minutes so that nobody notices how shiny and red they are. I start picking at the skin on my nose that never seems to stop flaking and I think, So we're here again, are we? Crying in bathrooms and avoiding social contact?
And why not? It's quiet in here, and warm. And walls don't require an explanation.