Blank space. Emptiness. Loneliness. Sorrow and pain. I’ve never felt so small and distant when surrounded by so many people. Tears allow some of the pain to escape, but just enough. Just enough to keep me looking normal on the outside. Life has become a stage and I just an actor playing a part. I am the pretty girl, the best friend, the one who’s always up for a party, the productive and successful employee, smiling always, laughing to drown out the silent screams of pain and fear. Constantly pushing, pushing everything down. Masking, hiding, buying, drinking, sex. Each a force to keep my true condition buried. Hands always shaking, leg always bouncing, fingers always picking, nails in mouth. Anxiety is my constant companion. Like a junkie seeking their next high, I constantly search for intimacy, validation, affection, at all costs. Watching my phone constantly, looking, listening for the sound of approval. When it finally comes the high is fleeting. Gone as quickly as a shadow exposed to the light. Then the crash. Falling deeper each time into a crater of despair, confusion, and anger as thick and sticky as tar. Feelings melting together like crayons in the hot sun. Love was once such a bright and shiny blessing. Now a dull, rusty burden filled with deceit. Laughing as it clings, dragging behind me. So proud of the job it’s done. Another victim claimed. Another lie believed. Just another blank space.