funny how fast my mom turned from ‘amanda.. are you alright? why don’t you get out of bed. we can talk’
a few minutes later, she comes back, me not responding, ‘i’m not waiting until september first. there’s no way in hell.’ in reference to my ‘kick out’ date.
so glad i didn’t decide to get out of bed at all. you didn’t even care.
i’m slipping away from everyone. it’s getting harder to fake it. so i don’t. i hide in my bedroom. it’s nice here. especially when everyone’s asleep. it’s almost like i’m alone.
no one cares and no one notices. and the funny part is that you don’t actually want them to. you don’t want them to notice you’re not okay. to try and get inside you and what you’re going through and really understand. you don’t want them to really notice and try to care because truth is, even if they do notice. they won’t care. not for long.
i’ve eaten next to nothing these past two days. i’m not hungry. i don’t know why.
maybe something will happen. maybe i’ll pass out in a few days. be rushed to the hospital. maybe then they’ll give me a concrete reason. when people ask what’s wrong. then i can tell them. this is wrong. it’s wrong and the doctors told me so.
i’m trapped in my head right now. i can’t stop staring and typing. i don’t know. i don’t know what your reaction is going to be. i’m a silly little girl on the internet who’s sick of faking it. so what. move on to the next sorry case. why are you even still reading this. i’m fucked up. i’m not capable of love. i’m not capable of loving people and i don’t know why. i haven’t eaten anything decent in over forty eight hours and i don’t know why. i’m typing this and i’m about to publish it and i don’t know why. no one really cares. no one really will. this was a waste of my time. but at least i said it. it doesn’t make me feel any better. or any worse. it’s just.. out there now.