my “friends,”
they’re planning a trip,
all joy and noise,
asking me my availability.
i don’t want to go.
they don’t know
i take off my smile at night,
like a soaked-through costume.
they don’t know
the girl in their group chat
is just a mask i wear
so i don’t disappear.
they have never realized
every night i struggle
to make it to morning.
i don’t know what to do. they’ll be mad if i don’t go, but i just don’t think i can handle it.