I don't know how to post about this, because I can't say it. Can't write it, can't even think it.
But sometimes? Sometimes do you ever feel something disastrous coming because you know that your life has been really, really easy (even though you pretend it's hard; you're a teenager) and nothing awful has ever really happened to you except in ninth grade but you got over that?
So you walk around on eggshells, saying prayers to cover everything?
But maybe you didn't pray about it right (maybe you even actually jinxed it) because there it is: and you can't stop it because it's not yours to stop. You can't change it or get away from it or stretch it out or ignore it. It's there and if it happens it happens and if it doesn't happen it's still a possibility, on the tip of someone else's tongue. You feel small compared to the sudden hugeness of your big world; it swallows you up.
And the only thing you can do is pray to counteract someone else's prayers, which you might feel bad about if you didn't already feel so bad in the first place.
You can't even say it on your blog.
Can't even write it in your journal.
You can just cry for too long and yell at Alex Giles in the Del Taco parking lot and then act like "oh hey, nothing is wrong, haven't cried a bit" when you go to be with one of your new best friends and a pretty blond boy. You might forget for a couple hours, but that might be worse because then it hits you harder when you do remember.
You cry at home. You don't even turn on the TV.
Not even hot chocolate can fix this one, Avery. Not even this blog post or all the long words that you know. Not even your tears. Not even the excuses you use on yourself.
This one's too big for your small, hungry heart. You can't fall sleep so you don't even try to.
Heads she stays. Tails she goes.