All She Can Say

“I hurts.” That's all she can say. Years of breeding to keep her mouth shut, internalize her emotions, and move on has stunted her ability to express anymore then just the word “hurt.”

But that one word tells so much. The way her face seems to crumble as her shaking lips breathe out the 'h' like soul deep sigh. The way her arms clutch to her abdomen, keeping the pain inside as she allows just the 'ur' to escape. And how her eye shift downward, preventing anyone from viewing into her soul that's shattered by the 't' on her lips.

She's the perfect student, hoping that good grades will make up for the lack of goodness in her soul. She feels unworthy, tainted, 'cause she hates the world. She resents happiness, wishes to put a shank in smiles. When people fall, she laughs inside. When they cry, she smiles. She not alone in that moment. Others are in pain. Just like her; she's not the only one.

Only one. She's all by herself. Mother and father too busy to notice. Teacher and peers so dumb they fall for the same line every time: “I'm fine.”

She's a liar. Such a liar she doesn't know the meaning of truth anymore. She's lied so long, so hard, that she's almost convinces herself she's fine, happy and fulfilled. Almost. But she's lacking, always lacking.

Lacking a reason to life, a reason to breathe. No reason for all this hurting, crying, every second of everyday. And all she can do is cry to the non-existent wind: “I hurt.”