my “friends,” they’re planning a trip, all joy and noise, asking me my availability. i don’t want to go. they don’t know i take off my smile at night, like a soaked-through costume. they don’t know the girl in their group chat is just a mask i wear so i don’t disappear. they have never realized every night i struggle to make it to morning.
i don’t know what to do. they’ll be mad if i don’t go, but i just don’t think i can handle it.