...

It was always harder at night, when she couldn’t ignore the ache in her heart, when there was no work to keep her mind busy, no-one to crack a joke and make her laugh even if it make her feel guilty.

It was always harder when she had the time to punish herself, to wonder if things might had been better is she was different, if she was stronger, if she was enough.  

She liked being alone, or at least she had repeated it to herself so many times that she actually started to believe it, but being alone with her head was sometimes overwhelming.

She pads to the empty bathroom slowly, with a fake tranquility that she has learned to master. A glimpse at the mirror, wanting to find something she’s not even sure what it is, and then her body slowly descends against the wall until it touches the cold tile.

A long arm reaches for the switch turning the lights off, like she doesn’t want anyone to see it, like it matters, though she’s all alone. In pure instinct she curls into her own body, crunches in, as if she could protect her heart, shield it against the things she doesn’t want to fear but knows she can’t avoid. Pressing her hands against her head, her palms covering her hears, in a silly attempt to shut up the screams that are not happening anymore, but still feel real. Struggling to find a reason to keep believing, desperately not wanting to give up, and at the same time wishing she could vanish to somewhere else.