you ask me if i’m tired, if i’ve been sleeping, and the lie is i got too caught up with working, with studying, with reading. the bags under my eyes are from hours behind a computer screen doing nothing of any importance, that’s all. they didn’t come from tossing and turning in a bed in a room in a cage and jumping at every sound because, secretly, i’m still afraid of the dark.
you ask me why i’ve got a headache and the lie is it’s from too much time spent on my phone, my laptop, the game console. the throbbing at every inch of my brain is just from being part of the internet youth generation, really. it didn’t come from silently screaming at myself to get up, get over it, or from crying myself to fitful slumber full of nightmares i won’t remember anything of but the feelings they gave me because- because it’s always just the feelings, isn’t it? i never know the cause. everything’s the cause.
you ask me if i’ve eaten or if i’m dehydrated or if i’ve been getting out enough and the lie is of course, i’m just tired. the door between me and the rest of the world is only closed because i’m resting or i’ve spent all day doing things and this is the first break i’ve taken. it isn’t to keep away everything that makes me feel like i’m choking on my own breath or drowning in my own tears and it’s definitely not because, most days, i can’t get up to open it.
you ask me why i haven’t called or responded to your text and the lie is i’m sorry, i didn’t get it or i’ve just been so busy. the truth is i did see your text and i did think to call but the second my fingers were hovering over the screen i had to put it down because i didn’t know what to say. the truth is i want to tell you everything i’m feeling but i feel like you’ll either not care or then be the one who doesn’t have any words.
the lie is when you say i can tell you anything because i don’t know how to scream I’M NOTHING.