When you see someone in pain, it’s like looking at a silhouette of them. You see the outline; you see a brief summary of them. You see the outside; you don’t recognize the inside…you can’t.
Sometimes the silhouette still presents the subject’s facial features. Sometimes it still shows everything that is to be seen on the inside. Sometimes the silhouette is black though. Sometimes it is not even a correct representation of everything that’s truly there – the pain, the heartache.
You can’t possibly know what’s going through their mind. You can’t possible understand what they’re going through.
All you see, if even, is the cover that masks the pain and their screams.
All you see when you look at me, if you see anything honest at all, is the exhaustion from the pain. All you see, if you’re looking at all, is a girl who wishes she could disappear.