Nobody Knows

In a room full of people, she feels all alone. While people talk all around her, she feels like something is missing. Nothing seems normal anymore—everything’s just wrong. She’s alone, and she hates it, but nobody knows.
Walking through the halls, people pass, barely noticing her; she’s just a slow-moving soul, taking up space in “their” world. But they don’t torment her—they do worse. They ignore her, push past her, pretending she doesn’t even exist—like she doesn’t deserve to exist. And she pretends that it doesn’t bother her, but it does—it really does—but nobody knows.
She’s always cold—almost like a decaying corpse. Inside and out, the cold sweeps over her in waves, some small, some larger. She tries to remember what used to make her feel warm but can’t grasp one memory. They’re too far gone—another life. She wonders when she’ll feel warm again: tomorrow, a week from now, a year, or never? When it’s warm, she feels free and happy—something she hasn’t felt fully in so long. Now nothing is happy and nothing makes sense, but she doesn’t know what’s wrong; nobody knows.
Even amongst her friends—her best friends, she longs for someone to understand her. They all laugh and talk; and she laughs too. But it’s a dry, empty, meaningless chuckle. She contributes just enough to the conversation without giving away any of her thoughts. She says nothing about the pain and the fears. She’s constantly fighting this emotional battle, but nobody knows.
Then she goes home…and still no one gets it. All her father can do is compare her to others—her sister, her friends, and himself. And because of him, she cries. She cries for the love that she never feels. She cries for the days that go by when she wishes she could die, just to stop all the pain. Everyday she considers the possibilities, wondering if life’s worth it. But nobody knows.
Long hours, she spends writing in a composition notebook. They’re her inner thoughts on the future. There are so many choices. One is ideal for her father, and she immediately crosses out with a red pen. Then, there’s the one for her. It’s successful; it makes her happy, but it’s not what her father wants. But there’s one last option—ideal for no one but a choice nonetheless. She considers it in private, locked away in her room. And she cries for the choice she longs to choose but can’t bring herself to resort to. It’s all just to get away… but nobody knows.
But somebody knows—one person in total. She needs the help and the love that one friend can lend. Slowly but surely, the emptiness in her soul can be filled. Every hug, every smile, makes her a little more whole, a little more alive. Without realizing it, she makes all the difference in the world for one person. She gives her the strength to carry on. But she doesn’t know it.
Nobody knows.