When your family’s in mourning and you’re still a kid, at least, and I’ll tell you why.
Because you’re expected to cheer them up and you have to hide your sadness.
When people come to offer their condolences, they will tell your parents, “Stay strong, it’s God’s will.”
Then they’ll tell you, “Stay strong for your parents, you have to be their happiness.”
You have to force yourself to act cheerful, to distract them from their own depression. But at the same time, you can’t cry. If you cry, they’ll be worried about you and they’ll go further into depression. And you can’t have that, you don’t want to see them cry.
You have to know when they’ll cry, when their eyebrows come together on scrunched up faces. Then you have to hug them and tell sweet nothings.
You have to act strong, like nothing’s wrong. You can’t tell them anything, or they’ll worry they’re not good parents. You can’t let them in, you can’t let anyone in.
The only one you can rely on is the locked, empty room.
You can’t be beaten down, you have to stand up and walk in your spot.
You won’t be angry, you won’t be frustrated, you won’t smother yourself.
You’ll just be tired from your charade.