Shadow Me (Shatter Me, #4.5)

by Tahereh Mafi

With some effort, I drag myself up, into a sitting position. I rub at my eyes, making a mental list of all the things I have to do today,

It’s nice to have space at the end of the night to be alone with my thoughts. Somewhere to hang the happy face I force myself to wear even when I’m having a shitty day. I’m grateful. I’m exhausted, overworked, and stressed out, but I’m grateful.

I’m lonely but I’m not alone.

Somehow, I’ve become a magnet for pain. Other people’s pain. My own pain. The thing is, I have no one to blame but myself. I ask the follow-up questions that land me here. I care too much. I make it my business when I shouldn’t, and I only ever seem to get shit for it.

lets get less real now

It’s hard not to be annoyed by the overwhelming lack of privacy.

I’m so happy for my friends. I love them, even when they piss me off. I care about them. I want their joy. But it still hurts a little when it feels like, everywhere I look, everyone seems to have someone. Everyone but me.

ok kenji, crying early

I spend my days pretending not to notice that I want more. That I need more.

I make an effort not to roll my eyes. “All right, all right, calm down. I’m here now.” “You’re thirty minutes late.” “Bro.”

Ugh, I hate everything.

I stress-eat it, ripping off huge chunks and blindly shoving them in my mouth.

I think maybe I’m afraid to hear the answers to my own questions. I worry about what they might reveal about me.

Because it’s not the pain that’s unendurable. It’s the hopelessness. It’s the hopelessness that makes you reckless.