Internal crisis

She’s depressed as hell, and everyone buys the smile. Straight A performance, dying inside, winning outside. She jokes. She laughs. She posts. No one looks close enough to see she’s wearing herself down, quietly, on purpose. There’s one name her heart won’t release— unrequited, unanswered, unfair. She tells herself you could save her, because believing that hurts less than the truth. Not healed. Not okay. Just still here. Message from the author: I love her. I turned her down because I was scared of commitment, turned her down because I have a reputation, turned her down for grades. I don't even think I'm anything at this point. I could be on the brink of collapsing while people just pass by. Why. I became a villain in her story, an antagonist, a narcissist. I can't seem to find myself, so I keep getting lost amongst seas of blue, lost amongst the sky, like a penguin out of it's habitat. I wanna find me, I wanna be seen. Well... yes, I am seen. But not the real me. People see me as happy, and maybe that's great. The real me hates everyone, and would never feel guilty for something bad I did. I must remain and seem happy, before I massacre everyone's reputation. I'm a disaster, bad luck, and hate.