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Your Not The Only One
Yeah, you. Don't give me that stare behind that curtain of hair. I know that your life is hard, but you're not the only one with some heartbreak. Everybody has some thing that they keep locked inside, something that breaks them down.
Don't believe me?
Fine. Let me tell you some stories.
See that girl over there? The pretty one with the blonde hair and blue eyes, small nose, tan skin? Carrying her math book, talking to a small posse of laughing girls? She's one of the popular girls, isn't she? Therefore, she must be the happiest girl on earth.
Actually, she's not.
Look at her. She's skinny, right? A bit too skinny. You can count her ribs, can't you. It's because of what her mother said.
She called her fat, you know. That girl took it to heart, and she's starving herself. Have you ever seen her eat lunch? She sits and smiles and pretends she's just fine, she's just not hungry at the moment. Breathing is hard for her, and even walking exhausts her. She's not going to eat, however. She can't afford to get fat, because then her mom will make fun of her again. She has to pretend she's happy, so she does.
That boy. Him, with the red hair and brown eyes, and really pale skin. He's a jock, good at running. Decent grades, funny, loud, everyone loves him. The class goof, the one who can make anyone laugh.
He's the product of a fling his mother had. His adoptive father hates him, his mother cries at the sight of him, his sister blames him because because of him, their family is falling apart. His parents are filing for a divorce soon, his sister doesn't talk to him. He cries himself to sleep every night, trying to reassure himself he couldn't control it. But it doesn't work, and every day, he puts back on a mask to lie to everyone around him, even if he doesn't know he's doing it.
That other boy. Blonde hair with brown lowlights, green eyes, a nose on the big side, mole on her chin. He's tall, and reading a Dungeons and Dragon book, standing by the doorway, trying to tuck himself into a corner where he won't be seen.
He doesn't have any friends, really. He spends his time gaming, and pretending. People don't get that to him, games are real, and something that he can connect with. He doesn't do much on weekends. Sits there at his computer and plays on line. He doesn't go outside or hang out with someone, because everyone makes fun of him.
When asked by people if he's okay, he gives them a grin, holds up his book, and says 'just daydreaming', because daydreaming is the only escape he has.
And that girl. Over there, in the baggy white t-shirt and dark jeans. Her hair's a messy brown-gold, tied into a ponytail at the back of her neck. Gray-blue eyes, a small scar on her nose which is covered in freckles. She's reading a copy of New Scientist, and she's built with muscle, not so much as petite as strong.
She puts on the hard untouchable act, like nothing you say will have any affect on her. She laughs and talks and smiles, but she doesn't want to be here. She doesn't like social things, because people make her nervous. She's too use to them yelling at her, or telling her that they hate her. She doesn't know how to act around anyone, because she's used to doing things on her own. She says she likes people, but in all reality, they scare her, because if you get too close, they'll break you.
She doesn't know where her fear comes from, she's been a loner since kindergarten, and she's jealous of anyone who can form a bond with someone without breaking it as abruptly as she's broken the ones she has had. She doesn't know how to react to anything that involves people.
And that girl, sitting by the New Scientist girl. Dark brown hair, brown eyes, light brown skin, glasses. She has an open face, although right now it's carefully blank. She has good grades, and her athletic ability is high.
Her brother is a druggie and a drunk, even though he's only fourteen. He's already been arrested three times, and her parents fight every other night. She and New Scientist girl are friends in a vague sense, because they can share what happens when the family's mad. She acts like it doesn't matter, like she doesn't care, but it's breaking her up. She really loves her brother.
The strain of pretending she's just fine is wearing down her mental health, and she suffers from bad headaches because of it. She's exhausted. Her family yells for most of the night. She studies during this time, trying to drown out the noise. Her grades are so good because of it, but is it worth it?
Their secrets are not as big as some. They are not beaten, they are not emo, they don't even cry until the strain forces them too.
But it's big enough that it's hurting them. The thin blonde will have damaged her health for life because she's not eating now. The jock boy will refuse to get close to anyone. The gamer will be lost in a world where he's accepted and no one can touch him. The loner girl's never going to learn how to deal with people. The brunette will no longer remember her family with any fondness.
Yes, you've got a sad story. It's killing you to keep pretending you're happy, but you're not the only one. Everyone has something that they keep hidden, a part of them they don't let anyone else see.
I'm not saying you should write your story off as unimportant. Everyone's heartbreak is important, because it's defining us. Not it itself, but how we deal with it.
The blonde girl will eat soon. The jock will find someone who loves him no matter what happened to his family, maybe reconcile with his sister. The gamer will find someone, eventually, who can talk to him about his games and have fun with them. The loner may someday learn that not everyone is out to hurt her. The brunette's brother will realize what he's doing someday, and his parents will forgive him.
It's easier to handle these heartbreaks if you're willing to move past them. Just let them go. Or not let go, but learn from them.
People will help you if you let them, after all.
And if you want...I'll listen.