At first, smiling is the easiest thing in the world. "Im great, and how are you?"
The pain is deep and covered with false hope, false joy.
His eyes catch the scars on your arms and you struggle to ignore it. Change the subject, cross your arms.
"Im fine thanks."
The whispering gets louder as you walk through the room, your smile wavers, your armor cracks.
"Everything's ok"
Suddenly it becomes hard to breathe, and it feels as though someone's standing on your chest.
Smiling becomes a difficult task and you try to keep the broken look out of your eyes.
You take shallow breaths, and focus on not falling apart. You can do it.
"Sorry, I've got to run..."
You make it to the restroom stall just in time. Your body convulses and you fall to your knees.
The pain has surfaced and is taking control. It overflows. There's too much.
The first cut is short and shallow. Just enough to let you take a breath. The second, longer, deeper. The calm is coming. Deep breaths, you'll get through.
Clean yourself up. Lip gloss, mascara. Run your fingers through your hair and paste the smile on.
Bury the pain and cover it with fake laughs and an easy smile.
No one will know, they can never guess the state of your pain.