Silent Room

I sit here,

on a bed, in a room so quiet I can hear air moving around like static. No music being shared on my phone, beats bouncing off the walls. No voices chatting, laughing, and saying goodnight. No boy blabbing on and on about some musician I don’t know. No videos shared. No posts seen. I won’t wake up to my phone feeling like fire and someone’s snores echoing throughout the room. No good morning will be heard from a soft groggy voice just waking up. Instead I am left with nothing but a room.

In this room

I lay with a stuffed animal. He is big, round, soft, and blue with teal lines supposing to mimic fur. I hold him close and curl around his round shape, my arms worn around him. I’m okay here, everything’s fine. The soft light from my lamp combined with my heavy blanket starts to burn my face leaving a faint blush scattered on my cheeks. The want for sleep has my eyes trying to drag themselves off my face. Streaks still drying from face, my inside feels hollow but my breathing is the most relaxed it’s ever been. I’ve lost my appetite as if I don’t deserve to eat or it’s become a burden I don’t deserve to take part in. I don’t want to do anything, just sit here until the feeling stops.

Alone.

I’m alone. My electronics aren’t even worth the distraction. Every video, post, or story is greyed out into mush. I’m surrounded by faces on plush bodies all staring at me with smiles yet none can speak a word to me. In here I’m small bullied by silence. Even though I could make the biggest noise and take control of the room I feel defeated. It’s not worth it. I’m a nuisance, weak, nothing. The room stays silent but my mind makes noise

Forever.