Hawthorne's Wisdom

It's so hard to go through day after day pretending that nothing is wrong, and that I'm strong, and I can overcome this heartache. I try with every shard of my heart to pretend that I'm healing, when I'm just regressing into nothing. I deny myself indulgence to tears, or even the thought of needing them. It's so hard to feign smiles and jokes when the only thing in the back of my mind is escaping. I want to escape so badly, and forget about this school, the people, my pathetic nothingness of life here. These mountains depress me an exhaustive amount, and with snow in October, they might as well laugh in my face. 

Yet, I will continue my masquerade, and parade around deluding my pain with the knowledge that at least we're still friends. Even if it's nothing more. Even if we both couldn't make it more, anymore. Time heals all wounds. I've told myself that every day for the past month, and I don't know if I'm questioning it or starting to believe it.

I don't know what sprout this intense lamentation, but I'm going to end it before I trap myself in my mind.

Hawthorne once said: "What other dungeon is so dark as one's own heart! What jailer so inexorable as one's self!" and I agree perfectly with him.