December 15, 2009
By Anonymous

I stared at the window. Not out it, just at it. Frost was forming on the glass, and if I had leaned closer my breath would have caused a layer of fog to condense. My hand held up my head, and my hair fell long and straight. My mom walked into the room. “What are you doing?” she asked me. I didn’t have an answer, so I did not reply.
“This isn’t healthy.” She said. “This isn’t right.”
I turned and looked into her eyes. She stared right back at me.
“I know what you’re thinking.” She said. She lied. She tried to understand, but she couldn’t. Didn’t.
My gaze did not waver. I had practice.
“I wish you wouldn’t be like this.”
I do too.
“I wish you would stop.”
I can’t.
“You need to express yourself, this never-ending silence isn’t working.”
Yes it is.
“One day you’ll regret it.”
Of course I will.
“I give up.”
It’s about time.
“You have to know that I love you.”
No comment.

-For J-

The author's comments:
It's not a happy piece. It wasn't meant to be.

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