still

I think I'm still hurting. I'm so good at hiding it, and no one
notices. Because they don't realize that I like him so much. Neither
did I.


I'm not good at keeping secrets from people, but I can keep
them from myself. I like to pretend that I don't care about him, that
I'm better off alone.


I think I'm scared of letting the pain wash over me. Pain
scares me. But I think I want to try. So many times I convinced myself
I was okay, that I wasn't angry and hurt, that I didn't care.



It's so much easier to fake Oblivion. But maybe for once I'll
let my true feelings prevail. Because despite what I try to believe, I
am sensitive and naive and broken. And I miss him.


I never knew this could be so hard to write about. I like
having to force my weakness onto paper. I think I learned too well to
bury it deep. But I can feel my anguish pulsating beneath all my fake
optomism. I'm trying to dig it out.