Sometimes I close my eyes and I just want to blink out of existence. I feel like it wouldn't matter because what people would miss about me is the warm body filling space. They would miss someone doing the job in their life that I do.

People know me has a student. A hard worker. A sympathetic ear. People see me as open arms. A warm shoulder. An understanding smile. These are the things I am to them. But what they don't know and don't see is all I see. It's the part of me I take to bed with me at night. The part that's nothing but empty. The part that does nothing but hurt.

It listens every time I am belittled. I blink. It listens every time we don't talk. I blink. I says to me, "See, you're not worthy of that friendship anymore." I blink. But, I still exist. I still have to lie in bed every night and listen to everything it doesn't like about me. I still let it make me cry.

It's the reason I write. I want it out of me. Off of me. Nowhere near me. I don't want it to be the part of me that I know anymore. I want to blink, and have it be gone.

But, it's not that simple. I still have to go to bed at night, and try not to listen to it, to not let it get to me. I have to keep blinking.