notkewlio3

I know what she thinks I do in the bathroom when I take a little too long, when I'm a little too quiet. After all, I'm a healthy teenager with access to the internet, what else could I be doing? She knocks on the door and asks, "Hey, what are you doing?" Smile, my dear reader. Chuckle a little. Sometimes she's right. But sometimes... Sometimes I'm on the floor or pressed hard against the wall, my heart a little too fast, my breath a little too quick... my chest a little too tight as I try to keep the sound of steadily falling tears from echoing beyond the door. As I try to keep pretences to the outside world that I do not cry, that noth