Hiding

During prom-making, I opened the new exact-o-knife box. When I tore it open, all the extra blades fell out, ringing against the floor. A boy from my class laughed and joked, "Look! It's emo heaven." Something about that comment got to me. I took a blade and slid it in my wallet, just in case I needed it.

Last night, I finally used it. I used it on my arm, because it always feels better on the arm. Only con: It's really hard to hide. And, well, I guess it made me feel more sad and small than I already did.

So today, I'm wearing my pretty, salmon-pink shirt over a black cami. The pink shirt has semi-long sleeves, which is why I chose it. I feel like Mulan, constantly pulling down her sleeve to cover up the Chinese notes she wrote down to help her with her meeting with the Matchmaker.

Except I'm not Mulan. And I'm not hiding notes to cheat on a test. I'm hiding my insecurity and shame. Melodramatic perhaps, but truth.