Tears began to gently caress her face, as she was overcome by a sadness whose source she didn't know.
Soon, the gentle caress was a heartrending, body racking sob that let forth tears of such pain and sorrow that all who would have seen then would have been moved to tears themselves. But she just sat, completely alone, too utterly scared to let anyone see this display of pure emotion. Because the source of her pain was loneliness, and to have people see it would have made it worse.
There were people who tried, were her friends and didn't want to see her sad. So she tried, however fruitlessly, to put on some semblance of a happy face, an occasional smile and laugh, so they would just leave. Because they didn't help her loneliness, but reiterated it, reminded her with every passionate kiss and declaration of love that she was completely and utterly alone. Was not the center of someone's world, didn't have someone to spend time with, who would sleep with her at night and care what she thought of them.
She had no one to plead desperately with her to reassure them that she loved them, for no one loved her enough to care. No one was there to take the little pieces of her heart that were left and try to put them together. No one left to care that her heart was shattered. Her heart was the plaything of boys who teased her and laughed at her. Her soul was torn, because they all wanted to be friends and she never wanted to lose that but she did want one of them to care more. To hold her and caress her and tell her how precious she was to them, how she was the "light through yonder window" and other such romantic nonsense. To give her things for her birthday, maybe flowers after a performance, to want to go on a romantic dinner with her. To heal the holes left in her heart by boys who had no idea what they were doing and the gaping hole left by one who knew exactly what he was doing and continued to do it. To suck the pain out of her chest, like rattlesnake venom, and spit it to the ground. To be the hope and the cure. To be everything that none of them wanted to be.
So she continues to sit, tears racking her body, as she is hit by a pain in the heart so fierce that she can't control herself. Sits here and wonders why everyone thinks she can help them with their emotional aches while she can't even solve her own. Wonders why she knows so much and yet is still so scared. Wonders why she thinks she can continue life like this. This is pain. This is hurt. This is unimaginable sadness. There is no happy ending for her. Because there can't be that much happy in the world.
So she is left out, left to the side to cry that she is alone. To cry that her friends are happy and she is glad, but she desperately wants what they have. To have the butterflies every time you see that other person. To have that person adore the ground you walk on. To get to wake up every morning to a "hello, beautiful." To be appreciated. To wonder at what force has entwined you. To be happy to be in love. Because she is stuck in a world where she falls in love and they don't return it. Where they say things like "you say it hurts too much, I say it can't hurt enough" and "in your blackest dreams, I do believe our destinies are tied." And they probably don't even mean you, because they don't have enough emotion for you to care. To try and cause you that much pain. Which makes it even worse. To know that they don't even care enough to hate her. She just drops off the face of the planet for them.
And she eventually learns to love the lie, the one where she is happy. Because there is some semblance of happiness in her life. She expresses herself through other people's descriptions of life. She desperately wants to drink herself into a stupor, to forget for a while exactly how much it hurts. To forget this pitiful desire to be loved. But she won't, and when she wakes up in the morning, she'll put on her face of nonchalance, the face that intimidates people and keeps them away. She'll erect the barriers around her heart again. The ones that were once brought down and her heart was so battered that she trusts no one with it, even as she wants to. The ones that will only be brought down by someone special, someone who earns her trust and love.
And she still sits, tears once again gently caressing her face as she tries to express to herself, to the world, what is wrong with her. Why she is emotionally cripple, while still wanting everything she can have. Why she wanders around kind of listless, in a world of her own where she can express herself. Why she plays music and composes things. Why she attempts to write things down. Why she keeps a version of a diary. Why there is this emptiness in her stomach, leaving a hole, and yet filling her stomach with pain so she doesn't want to eat, is afraid to eat for fear of being sick. Where she can't sleep. Where she listens to music to try to find some release for her pain. An outlet that never seems to work. The tears keep falling as she finally does drift to a restless sleep.
The tears just keep falling.