It's a Cold, Cold World

It’s another day. A new day. She looks out the window and stares as she day dreams. Will today be any different from any other miserable day? Only time will tell.

So she gets ready to go to her life outside her room. She looks into the mirror and tries to smile. A faint smile forms and the same instant a tear fall down her face.

“I can do this, I can pretend to be happy, just like I always do” she says to herself and walks out the door.

She meets up with the usual group of friends; they say their hellos and how are yous and get into some conversation. A meaningless conversation. She looks at them as they smile and talk about normal things. They laugh, and she zones out and thinks “if they lived a day in my shoes, I don’t think they would be able to handle it”.

They call out her name; she snaps back to reality, apologises for zoning out again and tries to get into the conversation. They ask her if everything is ok and she says that she is just tired and she should leave soon. They understand, oh how clueless her friends can be. As she walks back to her room, she bumps into her secret keeper, who with one look knows that everything is not alright. They stare into each other’s eyes, and she tells her secret keeper in a whisper “I am thinking about it again, and I can’t hide it now so I think I better stay alone before .... you know”

She completes her sentence “before they know that nothing is ok and that you are not ok” and with that her secret keeper give her a hug and leaves her alone.

As she sits in her room, thinking about the past, the pain, the heartache, she silently cries. She can’t wait until this feeling passes over and then she can act normal and hide her pain, put on a smile and everyone will continue to think that she is alright and they will never know of her true pain that will manifest again after a few months when something triggers the memories she chooses to hide.

So back to the previous question, was today any different? If anything it was more miserable than usual.

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.” (Henry Wadsworth)