The Hiding Places

I don't want to hide anymore.

I don't want to hide my face behind side bangs, but I can't stand to see it in full view. I don't want to hide behind eyeliner and eyeshadow, but I can't look in the mirror without it on. I don't want to hide behind loose fitting shirts, but I have too because I'm not twelve any more. I don't want to hide the hate behind sarcasm so everyone laughs, but I have too because I am nothing without my security blanket. I don't want to hide behind the quietness, but I don't have many friends to confide in anymore.

I don't want to hide the memories in a foreign section of my brain, but I need to so I don't breakdown. I don't want to hide the sorrow and the regret, but I have to pretend that I'm mad so no one knows how desperate I have become. I don't want to hide from the losses because then I'll have to admit I have nothing left. I don't want to hide from myself, but I actually do because I already hate myself anyway.