Pieces

Sat, 11/22/2014 - 01:23 -- CELINEA

i walk onto the stage

i smile and i wave at the gathered people

my mom is in the front row, right in the center

my siblings sit beside her

my teachers from grade school

my professors from college

the people i pass by on a daily basis are sitting in the back, watching attentively

my dad is leaning against the doorjamb at the entrance, he might leave at any moment

my roommates are on the end,

four rows back because they don't like to be front and center they like to take everything in

i walk onto the stage

i thank everyone for coming today

i thank my mom, who has always been at my back

i thank my siblings, who have never failed to make me laugh when I needed to most

i thank my roommates, who offer huge smiles everytime they see me

these people make up my family and yes some of us are related by blood but no not all of us are

i walk onto the stage

i tell the gathered audience

that today I will be performing 'homesick'

a play that i wrote while i was busy finding out how much it sucks to grow up

i walk onto the stage

and my roommates think it will be heartfelt

and my mom thinks it will be a little sad but a little hopeful

and the people i pass on the street on a daily basis think that it will have a comedic twist

and none of them are right.

 

i walk off the stage

i step behind the curtain and i 

face the back wall because my back must be turned they cannot see me cry

i walk off the stage

i inhale very deeply in the hopes of actually breathing but instead i inhale water because i am drowning

I set my feet deliberately so that i won't stumble as i pace a hole in the floor

i choke on essays and midterms and astronomy workbook assignments i gag on 8 AM classes and working part time and i am 1680.9 miles away from home i vomit a mess of 49% and see me after class and not good enough

i am drowning

i am drowning and no one sees the bubbles that burst from my lungs and my lips.

 

I turn to face the curtain

i practice a smile but it falls flat 

and my fragile happiness crumbles

i sob myself to sleep but quietly so that no one will hear

i hit my knees and beg and plead with God to make it stop i don't want to feel like this I don't want to be this i don't want to do this anymore

i turn to face the curtain

and i ignore the ropes hanging from the scaffolding above me

and i ignore how easy it would be

to slip a knot and pull it snug against my throat

It hurts too much i think to myself as knives make themselves at home in my chest and my stomach rolls and turns itself inside out my heart stops beating my head throbs in time with my nothing because my heart does not beat and I. Am. So. Tired.

i turn to face the curtain

and i think about the panic attacks 

at 3:30 in the morning

i think about turning on the fan in the bathroom so they won't hear my gasping sobs

and i think that there is a hole inside of

me.

it will never be filled, i know that much. 

it will never be filled because when i am there i miss my family

(oh how i miss my family i ache for them i cry for them I am a wreck and i want nothing more than to go homehomehome please)

it will never be filled because when i am here i miss my friends and my mountains and my school and my apartment with its charlie brown christmas tree and wallpaper made of posters that we found downstairs (and no one noticed that we took 70 of them)

i turn to face the curtain

and i wash my face

and i put on my makeup

and i curl my hair

and i slip into a skirt and shirt and scarf

and i paste on the biggest, fakest smile you will ever see

 

and the curain rises.

I dance and smile and sing my heart out

i wave off their concerns with a mix of flippancy and sarcasm and 

by golly it works they are fooled they believe me

and when the play is over

they will clap and cheer and send me flowers and well wishes

 

And then I will step behind the curtain once more and fall to pieces.

 

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