i’m happy. but i’m unhappy. my throat feels like sandpaper and my lungs are about to burst, but i don’t know why. i just feel like i want out. out of everything. i pretend to be happy, a paper smile sellotaped to my lips. but i don’t understand how you don’t notice. the act is so transparent, so fake, so normal. i feign normality to cover up my hatred of the cage i just want to break out of. i squeeze my eyes shut, clench my fists and try to burst out, and instead i burst into tears. i feel so restricted. i want to jump up and down in frustration and tear my clothes off and jump of a cliff and land in your arms. i want to tell you, truly i do, but it’s impossible. i look into your eyes and my words dissapear. they’re still there, in the back of my mind, screaming incessantly into the backs of my eyelids. i want to touch you; to reach out with shaking hands and touch your face, your mouth. i want you to kiss my untouched lips. to hold my trembling hands in yours, to trace their lines with your fingers. i want you to give me goosebumps. i want to give you goosebumps. i want us just to be. to let down the facade and talk until we know each other inside out. twice. my inhibitions hold me back. they whisper in my ears terrible things. they hold me back and push me away. what i fear the most is that they are doing the same to you. that they haunt you as they do me. that you lie in the dark staring into nothing, while they mutter a lullaby of lies.