Page 137 of Tell Me I'm Enough

“Oh-kay?” he drags out.

We walk over to the house without saying anything else.

When we get to my room, I turn back to him. “Thanks.”

“You sure everything’s okay?”

“I’m sure, Tank. Good night.”

“Night, Edwards. Text me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” I say, closing the door.

I rip my dress off and climb into bed, clutching the pillow to my chest.

I can’t stop the tears, so I just say fuck it and let them spill.

I don’t really know why I’m crying. Everything just feels so fucked up right now. This isn’t how things were supposed to be.

I was supposed to be thriving in college, with my best friend, living it up, still with my amazing boyfriend who loves me, and making a bunch of new friends. Not stuck in a house full of girls I pretend to be friends with, even though none of themreallyknow me, or care to get to know me deeper than this superficial surface-level bullshit.

I’m closer with the boys than the damn girls in my own sorority.

I like them, I want tobelike them, and I want them to likeme. I just feel like I’ll never really be the picture I paint for everyone else. And that’s the girl people are drawn to—not the real me, not the messy, emotional, lost version I am on the inside.

34

Mason

How many mornings am I going to wake up like this?

The nights are becoming less and less of a good time, yet I don’t know how to stop the cycle of doing it over and over again.

I can’t even fully open my eyes with the pounding headache behind them, and my stomach is revolting.

I just lie as still as possible…waiting for the waves of nausea to pass. Every time I think it’s fully gone, it rises back up.

My body is screaming at me to take better care of it, but I don’t have the time or energy to listen right now.

I have to make a two-hour drive to hell today, and I need to get up and pretend to be functioning enough not to get completely chewed out by my father when I see him tonight.

I stretch my arms out and hit something—jolting me from my sleep fog. I force my eyes open and quickly turn my head to see a pile of brunette hair on my chest.

What the fuck?

No.

There’s no way.

I wouldn’t have…

I don’t…

I never sleep with anyone…no matter how drunk I get.

But I can’t remember anything from last night.

What did I do?