Hiding places

“I’m good at hiding”, I say almost proudly.

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing”, K replies.

That’s the first time anyone’s ever told me that and I don’t know what to think.

Or I don’t know maybe I’ve heard it before but people always just tend to ask why I’m hiding. But something about hearing this in that particular context hit me very hard.

You see, I have a lot of good hiding places. The bridge, the roof, second floor of the academic block, 4th floor of the admin building, next to the corner room on the first floor and many others. I’ve gotten used to this. Running and hiding. Every time I panic, I hide. I’m not always able to if it gets really bad really fast but I try.

Panic makes you vulnerable. I can’t control the things I say and I can’t control my breathing and I don’t want people to see my like that. So I hide. I don’t know if I should or not but I’m so used to it. Been hiding so much for so many years, I almost don’t know how to not hide. Hiding my depression from my family, hiding my sexuality from them too. Hiding the severity of the abuse I went through, making jokes about it to deflect. Hiding the scars with makeup. I’m good at hiding. I have practice at this.

I don’t let myself think about how much hiding hurts though. How sometimes I don’t want to hide, just want to be found (wow how fucking dramatic am I!?).

oh fuck i don’t know what i was thinking anymore i got lost in my thoughts so yeah this is it i guess. and i guess the answer to why i hide is simple. it’s easy. hiding is so fucking easy and it’s easier (and harder maybe?) when people don’t even figure that you’re hiding. 




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