A Founding Myth

Are there words to describe what I've been going through? Depression is sinking into me, tarnishing the smile I try to flash. I am continually amazed that people cannot see past the facade I have erected. Does anyone even care to try and see what's really going on in my eyes? Have I become so skilled at hiding everything that no one knows what I look like when I express honest emotions? I shudder to think that my sour mood may affect those who I spend the most time with. Is my pain infectious? The world seems to be falling apart around me, and I am forced to grasp the shards of what's left. My father has abandoned my brother. How can I choose between the two men who raised me...the two men who abandoned me? I still ache from the memory of the day my brother ran away. Lying on the floor, wraped in the only thing he left behind, crying for the only person who hadn't left me yet. He was all I had left, and now there is nothing, there is no one. "Smile, Holly, smile. You are the rock. Hold it all together." When the floor gives out, there won't be anything to catch me. I've almost convinced myself that I don't need anyone. "I am a natural wanderer, a loner, someone who prefers the solice of solitude." Music has become the only thing that can hold me. I find that I flinch at human contact. I don't even like people to sit or stand near me. Do others live like this? I can't fathom this being normal. Do others cry in the shower? Tears cleansed by the falling water, the sobbing covered by the sound of the fan sucking up the steam and hope. It's almost two years to the day that I ran away. December is my month of pain. Like the pain of the anniversary of a death, I feel the aching in my core. Have I not gone forward? Have I not grown? Will there be a December where I won't crave the dark? Nothing satisfys me. What can fill the gaping hole that a life of cruelty has created? Will fate ever stop spitting on me? I've become a fatalist, uncomforted by the things that once made me smile. There's an influx of tears. Why doesn't anyone see the streaks on my face?! Why doesn't anyone notice?! Why am I comforted that they don't? I go "home" soon. I will find enjoyment in the familiarity of my home and family. I will once again become the glue that holds the shards together, the rock filled with space. And then January will come.