Straighten your posture Let your dimples show Widen your eyes And no one will know

I smile as I strut through the doorway. Bold and sassy. That’s what they want me to be.

So that’s what I will be.

Smile and laugh Through the blur of the party And then all will be okay Just don’t be tardy

If I pretend it never happened, it will go away.

No dead flowers No hard stone No shivering cold Or time sitting alone

Make promises and deals, even if you can’t keep them. It makes you seem loyal and trustworthy.

I wrote that down somewhere.

It’s more than a list of rules.

It’s me.

It’s who I am.

A smile, a laugh, a promise, a joke It’s part of me now, more than an oath It combines them, and me aswell So I can survive this lifetime of hell

There is a smell of candles emanating from the kitchen window. I can hear giggling noises and chatter as I exit the car, then sudden silence. I knew this was coming. I had secretly hoped for this for years. A picture-perfect sit-com moment out of the books of 90's nostalgia. But now that it is here I don't really want it.

Why now? Why you? Is this some sick way to apologise for you hitting me last week? Or is it just to look cool in front of our shared friends, who I know would be on your side if we ever broke up? Just so they can say they knew I was not the one and you would deserve better. But none of them knows of your dark side. They don’t know what happens behind closed doors every time you come home from the bar.

I unlock the front door and toss the bunch of keys into the large wooden bowl on the countertop. The moist air inside the entrance hallway is laced with traces of cinnamon and chocolate. God I hate cinnamon and you should know that by now. But you rarely listen anyway.

The candle incenses and fizzing drinks numbingly audible. The dog not coming to greet me. Obvious signs. But I don't want this, not here, not with you. So I pick up the keys gain, grab my passport and close the door quietly behind me. Closing the door on you and a life which made me feel used to putting on a mask to hide my feelings.

It seems like yesterday That I first met you Joyful, full of life, Carefree and humble.

The more I learned of you, The more awed I became, Who was this girl That smiled through her pain?

The doctors said terminal, You simply shrugged it off. Kept on living to the fullest, Cherishing every moment.

No one could've guessed That your life was slowly fading, For you smiled ever-still, We all kept hoping and praying.

Things went further south, You never once complained. Your bright eyes and joyful heart Thrived amidst the pain.

Then one day, You were gone. Simply out of The picture.

Fallen asleep to this world, To awaken in a Paradise Hidden from Our sight.

How can you be gone? It doesn't seem realistic. How am I to continue on, When from the picture, you are missing?

And yet I hope, I wait, I pray. I rejoice that We'll meet again someday.

And what a joyous time That day will be, When we hug And to our Savior sing.

For now, you're gone, But not forever. You're simply on the Other Side, Pain-free up in Heaven.

So I hope, I wait, I pray And rejoice that We will meet again someday.

It seems like yesterday That I first met you And one day, someday, I'll come to join you.

The walls of Ginsberg Junior High seemed to close in on Will as he struggled to get to his next class. It was room 13, just down the hall and to the right. It shouldn’t be too hard. He tightened his arms around his binder as the blood started dripping from the ceiling. His heartbeat quickened along with his pace. The students gave him odd looks as he passed. He closed his eyes and told himself it was just another vision. It should go away in a few seconds. Then Will bumped into something-someone- he realized as his eyes flew open and scanned the person in front of him.

Oh, shit.

Will smiled awkwardly and apologized. It was his hallway crush. The boy had wavy brown hair and a white v-necked shirt.

The cute boy smirked at Will, ‘You know, you shouldn’t walk in the hallways with your eyes closed.’

His cheeks burned, and he mumbled ‘I know.’

Then Will’s gaze drifted over the boy’s shoulder at the blood that was now slowly covering the floor. Creeping towards him.

No. No. No.

Will mumbled another apology and began to walk towards it. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. No one had the red liquid stuck to the soles of their shoes. He stopped at the slowly moving border.

Then he took a step. People were whispering at his strangeness, and he could feel tears burn his eyes. He couldn’t cry, not now. He took a deap breath and began to make his way to the classroom. He tried to ignore the squish at the bottom of his shoes.

He was almost there. Five more steps.

He made it. Will walked into the classroom, and everyone was staring at him. The teacher was scowling. His heart fell into his stomach.

‘You’re late Mr. Willow,’ the teacher said darkly. Will quickly took his seat and pulled out his books from his bag. He could feel the other student’s eyes burning holes into him.

He felt a tear escape and fall down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly and cursed himself. There was still that sickening wet feeling in his shoes, and he hesitantly looked down.

They were red. A deep wine red that went up almost to his ankles.

Will looked up and tried to pay attention to the teacher, but it was almost as if the blood on his feet began to spreading up his legs. He felt nauseous.

He raised his hand, trying to keep his arm from trembling. The teacher called on him, and he asked to go to the restroom. She muttered something under her breath, and guestured for Will to leave.

He stood up, his chair making an embarrassing sound. The teacher grimaced and glared at him with a furious gleam in her eye.

Will practically ran out of the classroom. He sped walked down the hall to the mens room, and rushed into an empty stall. He then threw up his breakfast, then when he thought he was done he backed away from the toilet. He looked down, forgetting his shoes, and saw that the blood was almost up to his knees. He threw up again, almost certain an organ or two came up with it, and whimpered.

He heard a soft knock on the door of his stall. Will froze. ‘Um. Are you okay?’

Fuck. It was him.

Will looked aroung the stall for anything sharp he could stab himself with. Unsuccessful, he laughed humorlessly. ‘I’m fine.’

The boy sighed, and opened the door and looked down at my curled up form.

With a raised eyebrow he said, ‘That’s definitely not what I see.’

Will gave him a forced smile. ‘I. Am. Perfectly. Fine.’

The boy just gave him a genuine smile and held out a hand. ‘Lets get you cleaned up, shall we?’

‘I don’t need your help.’

‘Well I need to help you.’

Will narrowed his eyes at him. ‘Please leave’

He just shook his head, his hand still outstretched.

‘Fuck you.’

His smile just widened. ‘Good luck with that.’

Now Will was annoyed for more than one reason.

He sighed and took the boys waiting hand. He couldn’t help but realize just how nice it felt. He shook the thought away and pulled his hand from the his.

Will washed the bit of throw up from his shirt, and then considered washing his shoes and socks, but didn’t want to weird the boy out. Then he realized the blood was fading. It was at the top of his calves now. He sighed in relief.

‘What’s your name?’ the boy asked him.

‘Willow, but call me Will.’

‘Cool. I’m Arthur, but call me Artie.”

Will smiled at the nickname, then he remembered he was supposed to be annoyed at the boy.

‘ I’ll see you around,’ he said before rushing out of the bathroom.

~~~

I might write more thats why it has [ I ]

Hopefully you didn’t hate it :> (i didnt have time to edit)

The place I’m living is called Happiness but the others living is the depression. Somehow, I wonder if I need to be happy here. I ponder on it and kept thinking. I couldn’t find any joys in my life but I felt happy somehow. The surface of me felt happy somehow. I thought about the hobbies I have which makes me happy. None. Really. I inhabit here but I feel like I don’t belong here nor the depression. I tried to find the neutral spot and I was just lingering on the wrong spot for the whole time. I should find my way.

Every time I am near you, I feel like I can finally breathe. But at the same time, the oxygen never fills my lungs. I feel so much, but can only show so little. Because now, now I am only one of many. I cant help but be fearful of what's coming/ I dont want to lose you in the chaos of my feelings

Why, why right now and why you? Why do I feel like you're the sun shining in my face, warming my heart. Why are you the first person I feel comfortable around, why you and why right now?

I feel like my world is upside down, but it's right this way.

Why are you the first person where I can truly be myself, with all the emotions and feelings I have? Why does my life feel empty when you are not around? I have this stupid smile on my face, a smile that I haven't had in so long. A smile that I never had until now. This feeling is lightening up a fire in my heart, one that is not burning but rather warming. Why does it feel like this with you/

I want to tell you that it's your fault, with your cute smile and big eyes and gentle touches; I want to tell you that it's your fault, the way you talk and dress and act, I want to tell you that it's your fault, the way you're passionate about the things you love, with your shy personality, I want to tell you that it's your fault, because you never fail to make me laugh; because of you I am all over the place.

and why/ why you and why right now?

In the heart of a bustling city, where the cacophony of life echoed through narrow alleys, lived a young woman named Maya. She wore her pain like a delicate veil, concealing it behind a practiced smile. To the world, she was a symphony of grace—a poised dancer, a diligent employee, a caring friend. But beneath the façade, her soul played a different tune—one of quiet suffering.

Maya's days were a delicate balancing act. Each morning, she donned her invisible armor—the mask that hid her turmoil. Her mornings began with a ritual: a splash of cold water on her face, a swipe of crimson lipstick, and a deep breath. The mirror reflected a composed woman, her eyes betraying nothing.

At work, she navigated the fluorescent-lit corridors, her heels clicking in rhythm with her heartbeat. Colleagues admired her efficiency, unaware that her heart carried a weight heavier than any spreadsheet. When deadlines loomed, she worked late into the night, her fingers dancing across the keyboard, masking her exhaustion.

In the evenings, Maya joined her friends at the local café. They laughed over chai lattes and shared stories of love and adventure. But Maya's laughter was a practiced melody, rehearsed to perfection. She listened to their dreams, their heartaches, and wondered if they sensed her silent struggle. She longed to unburden herself, but vulnerability was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Her nights were the hardest. Alone in her tiny apartment, she faced her demons. Memories of loss, betrayal, and shattered dreams haunted her. The walls absorbed her tears, and the moon witnessed her silent screams. She wondered how much longer she could keep up the act.

One rainy evening, as droplets tapped against her window, Maya sat on her balcony. The city lay sprawled before her—a tapestry of lives, each thread woven with pain and hope. She clutched her chest, feeling the raw edges of her heart. The mask felt suffocating, yet she dared not remove it.

And then, fate intervened. A stray cat appeared, its fur matted and eyes pleading. Maya scooped it into her arms, its warmth seeping through her skin. The cat purred, as if sharing its own hidden story. In that moment, Maya realized she wasn't alone. The world was full of silent warriors, each carrying their burdens.

She decided to break free. The next day, she walked into a support group for grief and loss. There, surrounded by others who wore their pain openly, she shed her mask. Her tears flowed freely, and she found solace in shared vulnerability. Maya learned that strength wasn't in hiding suffering but in facing it head-on.

As weeks turned into months, Maya's transformation was subtle yet profound. She still smiled, but now it reached her eyes. She danced in the rain, letting it wash away her pain. And when she met her friends, she spoke her truth—the raw, unfiltered version. They listened, hugged her, and whispered, "You're not alone."

Maya's symphony changed. It was no longer a solo performance; it became a chorus—a harmonious blend of brokenness and healing. She discovered that true composure wasn't about hiding suffering but about embracing it, sharing it, and finding strength in vulnerability.

And so, Maya danced through life, her mask discarded. She became a beacon for others, teaching them that sometimes, the bravest act is to reveal our scars—to let our symphony play, unmasked and unafraid.

I look around and see so many unknown faces. I go quiet; I can't seem to get out any words. In crowded places like this I feel like a nobody. People greet me and I force a smile so that they don't recognize my discomfort. A few people shoot me looks, I wonder if they're judging me. Is something wrong with my outfit? Did my mascara smudge? Do they think I'm weird or ugly? Do they realize that I feel extremely nervous and uncomfortable? I feel tears start to swell up in my eyes; I hide it by looking down and fidgeting with my hands. I'm shaking uncontrollably. It feels like something is stuck in my throat, I feel nauseous and strange. My mind is filled with so many things yet it is blank at the same time. Everything feels like a dream. My eyes wander around the room so many times, it's all happening so quick I don't even realize it. Every day I suffer more and more. It's like my brain forces me to feel this way in a crowded room filled with people I don't know. I just keep pretending everything is fine and hope nobody notices my discomfort. When will my suffering come to an end?

“I just don’t see you and me working, B. I love her.” His eyes that were once soft like a cozy blanket now held the roughness of jagged rocks. The same lips that I used to kiss senselessly were now the same ones being used to spit out words that gripped my heart like a vice and squeezed until the red turned blue.

Damn him for doing this in a brightly lit eclectic cafe. The colorful polka dotted wallpaper seemed to laugh in my face with its pastel pinks, and vibrant orange hues, while deep down inside I felt ebony. I nod my head in a pitiful attempt to make him realize I am not suffering with the news that the girl he cheated on me with, he now loves.

How can I be so stupid?

I will away the sting of the tears that are trying to force themselves out of my eyes. I stare past him, choosing to focus on the fluffy snowflakes that cover the New York City sidewalks and pile onto street lamps. Outside, couples walk hand in hand with to-go coffee cups and beanies on, puffy jackets and smiles stretched cheek to cheek on their cold bitten faces. The colored lights of the christmas tree that stands tall and confidently in the corner of the cafe grabs my attention as I sink further down into this uncomfortable white wooden seat.

“I get it Mi-“ my shaky voice cuts out as a strangled sob tries to crawl its way up my throat. His name carries too much hurt for me to haul out in the space in front of us. It serves to remind me of who I thought he was, rather than who he actually is which is quite frankly just a liar.

If he’s a liar then I am a liar too due to the fact that instead of giving into the treacherous emotions trying to erupt out of me like an overdue volcano, I plaster on a smile when the couple seated next to us looks over.

Act happy Bea you got this.

“I want you to be with her if it makes you happy. Life is too short to not be with the one you love and I know it’s hard to find. I just wish you didn’t waste the time I had that I could have better spent searching it out. Although, our relationship didn’t stop you from doing that.” I need to get out of here before my tears mimic the snowflake that has now melted against the glass window in front of me, and trickle down my face. “I’m not mad, however I do have to get back to work.” I slap down a ten dollar bill to pay for both our lattes.

I grab my oversized purse and swing the door open to meet the bitter cold that slaps at my face. My shoulders feel heavy, and my legs lag with each step I trudge across the street through the snow. I make it only so far before my emotions finally lower me down against a brick wall on the cold cobblestone ground, and I break.

Sobs crawl out of me, tears pour down my face, and through my water-coated eyelashes, and through the brightly lit, holiday decorated, eclectic cafe window do I see that a beach blonde girl has taken my uncomfortable chair across from him.

The wind blows my rich brown hair across my face and sticks to my lipgloss, but I dont pull it away, I’d rather just hide for now.

I remember seeing him on the floor, stepping over the colored vomit and walking to the door where my Grandma knocked violently.

I remember her face when the door opened- seeing her son on the floor like that. She thought he was dead. God… we all did.

Me and my two sisters- me being only nine, both sisters younger- we didn’t know what to do at the time. Looking back, there was so much I could’ve done.

We watched as she dialed 911, how she tried to keep her composure. I remember how she told me and my sister to get ready to go.

I watched as they loaded him onto the gurney and folded him into the back of the ambulance, the lights flashing, sirens roaring.

“Tell daddy bye,” she said. And so we did.

Those were the last words I told him. And he didn’t even hear them. I remember how we rode in Grandma’s car, how her fingers shook as she buckled my smallest sister into her carseat.

I remember how she asked us what happened. She listened, tears in her eyes as she sped to the hospital, calling her husband on the way.

“Something’s wrong with Ed,” she had said.

Me and my middle sister exchanged a look- a mix between horror and fear. I remember how quiet it was in the hospital.

Me and my sisters hadn’t ate in two days, that’s how long he’d been out of it, that’s how long he’d been sick. He was hurt bad. And no one knew why.

They brought us a huge platter of eggs, biscuits, grits and bacon with a slice of sausage. They also brought us Barbies to play with while they watched over daddy.

I remember when Grandma left the room and came back, how her eyes were puddled in shimmery tears and she told us he was going to be airlifted to a hospital in the capital of our state.

“He’s gunna be okay,” she whispered as she kissed us each on the forehead, sniffling.

And so the five of us loaded into the car and sped down the interstate, the helicopter always in view.

“When he,” she smiled sadly, trying to be happy, “when he wakes up, we’ll have to tell him that he flew. He’ll never believe it.”

“He’ll be so happy,” I remember murmuring, watching the chopper in the air.

At one point it disappeared, reaching the hospital before we could. Everyone started sniffling then. The radio had been cut off, the car filled in deadly silence.

Reaching the hospital and parking in a huge, stacked car building, we got out and walked inside. I remember commenting on how huge it was. I remember seeing all of the sick people walking in the hallways and feeling sorry for them.

Turns out daddy was in the emergency room- the intensive care unit. At the time I didn’t know what this meant, so I sat and played with my Barbie. We sat out in a white hallway. We were the only ones there. Which I thought was strange, but never questioned it.

Hours later, my dad’s half sister shows up. A pretty lady with a boyfriend with huge jaws that stuck out. I always laughed to myself at how funny he looked. She held me and let me play with her beautiful, long red hair.

God… I liked her so much, I never thought she’d steal my dad’s house and never let us go back again.

A pastor also came. He was a short, funny looking man, with huge ears and a small smile, which me and my sister thought was hilarious. He gave me a light up pen to play with because I wouldn’t stop asking questions.

I remember being hungry and asking for food. I was given two dollars. I went to a snack machine down the white hallway and bought a bag of Jalapeño Cheetos. I ate half the bag and tied it up, saving it for later.

Two days were spent in that hospital. Two agonizing days, where no one knew what was wrong. Grandma always went into the back with daddy, but me and my sisters weren’t allowed.

“Only the grownups,” they told us.

We were mad that we couldn’t see our daddy. That’s all we wanted to do; just to see him so he could make us laugh and we wouldn’t feel sad all the time.

And two days later, we were buzzed into the rooms at the back. The woman at the desk looked at us and told us we weren’t allowed. The grownups were crying harder now as they explained we were called in by the doctors.

She gave us one small, sad smile. I turned to my sister and squealed. After all, we were going to see him and he was okay.

We walked down twisted aisles, we could hear people crying in the closed stalls. It was probably the most miserable place I’d ever been in.

Me and my sister were jumping up and down and trying to peek in all the stalls to see which one was daddy. But instead, we were led to a room were a nurse opened a door with no windows and let us inside.

I looked around. What? No daddy? Where is he?

Instead, crying people sat. I blinked, then ran to my Grandma with my sister, and crawled into her lap.

“Where’s daddy? I thought…” I trailed.

“Your daddy… he- he left us. He passed away,” she whispered, tears spilling.

My hero, my dad, my friend, my life, my world. He died and everything darkened. Now an orphan, both my parents dead, I would struggle for a home and be abused in both.

Never, ever waste a second to tell someone you love them. Because you never know how much they mean to you until they’re gone. Take each moment as a blessing, never take one for granted.