She sits in a crowded hallway, surrounded, but alone. Her restlessness is evident on her crooked broken nails, still caught in between her teeth. Her friends sit nearby laughing and joking, not suspecting that she is struggling to keep track with the story, that she’s struggling to stay on the same page, struggling to keep her mind from drifting, struggling. Occasionally, she gives a smile; sometimes fake, sometimes genuine. They believe it. They always do. She has mastered this art. Her eyes don’t give away anything. She gives her input, keeps herself involved, so she doesn’t have to think. Because when she thinks her mind goes to places, places she doesn’t ever want to visit.
At home, she’s alone in her bedroom. But she’s not really alone. The voices in her head nagging her throughout the day are especially loud now. They tell her things and that’s all she hears. She’s struggling to defy them, deny them, contradict them but they are strong. They tell her she is invisible, they tell her she is irrelevant. They tell her that she ruins everything just by her existence. The friends she has don’t really care for her. Her family would be better off without her. The world would be better off without her. She tries to rationalize, tries to convince herself that that is not true, because she knows it is not. But she believes them anyway.
Her life has become a constant struggle of wanting to break down and not breaking down, and wanting to give up but not giving up. Sometimes she thinks she needs help, but how could she tell her parents that she needed treatment for something they could not even see?
She lives on the conviction that she is strong, but for how long will ‘strong’ be enough? When everything is pulling her down, and the waves are engulfing her, will her strength be enough to keep her ashore?