By Audrey Paredes
I tried to reveal the dense screaming in my mind, and the girl in my bed wasn’t me, it was someone that I thought was me. I didn’t want to admit that I was becoming like someone I knew a journal entry would never be able to fix the things I felt. The doubt I felt when I went to bed at night crept over me and reminded me who I am and who I’ll always be, useless, unacceptable, fearful, never enough. And again and again it would remind me of who I was. Until it got dark one day and I actually believed all the things it said to me, I tried carefully to stop listening, but every time I did that, I found myself crying on the floor. And it would creep over me while I slept and whisper to me all the things I was, and never did I say anything cause it would make me small, weak, unbearable and it would add to the list of what I was. The pull hurts and the tear of your heart being ripped out will never feel like something you’ve ever felt before. That’s the girl I was before.
