A Haunted Mind

If only I could bring myself to meet their stares. I pass them on my way to the cafeteria. Not one but two heads turn to stare at me as I follow the sidewalk. In my head I am counting. One, Two, Three, Four. Be careful not to slip. Be careful not to look at them wrong or they may find a new flaw to analyze and draw into themselves. They draw up their breif sketches of my failures--hm no makeup, but she looks well dressed. 1

"She must have a rich family, oh but from the way she holds herself it must have been rough. That poor girl. Why is she still here? What does she have to do with us? She doesn't really fit in well here, does she?"2

Words. I can't handle words. Anxiety, Depression, Compulsion. Quit it! Quit it! Stop right now. I follow down the center, careful not to look up. Careful not to show how nervous I am inside. It's miserable to me but there is no mercy here. I know they can see inside me. I know they can read my mind. I know they hate me. I know they watch and laugh at me behind my back. What did I do to deserve this. What's so funny?!3

Then it stops. I turn the corner and I try to put happy thoughts into these empty walls. What am I denying? What is there that I have not confessed? Oh yes, I am a failure. I order a meal and I eat it with hunger and anxiety. I know I should not eat right now. 4

Then I wonder how a cigarette might do for me at this moment. Suddenly I can't stop thinking about the cigarettes. I am looking around the room and faces talk loudly to one another over my thoughts. I am thinking-- cigarette? Now? Later? Soon? I should smoke one soon. I will feel better. Then this will all go away.5

I'm in my dorm room and watching as the sun falls over the hills through my window. If only I could be like them. I lay in bed shivering with the covers tucked over me like protection. I try not to cry, try not to wish for anything else. I see the mirror in the hospital. The teenage girl is looking back, but she is not real and she can't see herself. She is blind. It's the mother who left her family and the father who's paying his way through his life's debts. It's the mark on her wrist and the feel of a slap. The feel of a hand she doesn't want to touch. 6

She closes her eyes but wishes she was out there. Wishes she was someone else. Wishes she wouldn't dwell on her flaws and then display them for the world to see. The voices in her head voice proudly her inner pain. In a room with only thirteen people she is still never calm. In a room with seven strangers she never feels safe. Who are these people? What are they looking at? What do they want from me? Why are they hurting me? What did I do?7

Then the voices calm. I am alone at last. I get up and take out the bottle and force the pills down with water. I remember too much and leave out all the rest. I just want someone to understand. But the pain is there, and if you want to help me then you will have to understand. Respect me and appreciate me because that's all I ever wanted. But what I wish more than anything, is peace.