i can feel their eyes watching me...they crave my story.
By Surmise
- 586 reads
I can feel them looking at me.
I don't have to ask in order to know what their thinking.
The look of pitty on their face when they see me hold a child, as if expecting me to break down and cry so that they can come and comfort me and then have something to talk about. Their waiting for me to break. They watch me and study me. They obviously need something better to do. I hate explaining what happened. I hate it that they know. I didn't even tell them they figured it out when I said " casey I can't come to work on Feburary 13 because my baby......" and I start crying. " and the 13th is when he would of......" and I can't breath anymore. Tears run down my eyes and I cover my face.
I'm the center of attention. Fuck...they know....here come the questions....here come the hugs..... here come the stories......and the irritating part of it all is when they say "so are you okay?" Of coures not. That's why I cried deep shit.
But then I don't mean to be offensive. So I nod politely and smile. Pretend like they comfort me. This is uncomfterble. I want to run out of here and hide in my car. But I stay and pretend to be okay. I'm tierd of their eyes. They keep looking. They say it'll pass. I know it will. But my son won't!!!!
So they anxiously wait for me to break. I won't give them what their craving. They want it so bad you can tell. And the pregnant lady won't mention her baby around me. As if I were gonna cry. She craves my story. They all do. But I won't budge. They are not getting shit from me.
I want to run.
I want to hide.
I want to cry.
I want to heal.
I want it to pass.
But my son will never pass.
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This is really affecting
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