by Brooke McLain
I see myself shutting the window.
I sit here on the bed as my hands move in the opposite corner.
There are people on the other side of the window, making an effort to reach me.
I can’t stand them and the shades go down
I want to be alone but I see outside the friends I’m hurting and worrying.
So I push myself up and walk out to the outside.
As my hands keep the shades pushed down,
I smile and say hi,
All the while wondering what is wrong with me.
They tell me I can confide in them,
But how can I do that when I can’t even say or write the words all alone in my room?