Walking home

Everyday when I walk home, I take out my cellphone. I open it, and hold it up to my ear. And I just talk. I say anything and everything that goes through my mind. I talk about the day’s events: my friends, teachers, clothes, enemies, insecurities, weather, beauty, and myself. I feel like it’s the only time I’m not wearing a fucking mask. I laugh when I make jokes. I cry when I bring up the crap in my life. I stop on the side of the road when my words overcome me, and walking is no longer a possibility. And finally, no one is judging me. It’s the rare moment when I don’t even judge myself.

I’m just waiting for the day when there’s actually someone on the other side of the phone. Because talking to no one is terribly depressing.