Cassandra closes the front door behind her and leans hard against it before sliding down, the skirt of her dress catching and sliding up as she slides down, but she can't find it in her to care. Tears are already falling as she pulls her knees up to her chest and she buries her head against her knees as sobs begin racking through her body. Breaths are erratic, her heart beating so hard. It almost feels like a break up when you realize someone you should be able to talk to isn't right to talk to.


She can't talk to Gerrit. Not really. He can't listen to her. No, if he listens, he just gets jealous or wants her to shut up about her problems. She can't be catty. She can't take a moment to be sad without feeling like a burden. The worst part is that he's the only one who knows. The only person she can vent to, cry to, express anything about her relationship to.


Of course, that's the problem. Gerrit isn't a Blodwen. With Blodwen, the moment she stepped through a door, it was time to spill the beans, give every detail of everything to. And Blodwen was always happy for her, mad for her, sad for her. She never felt more supported when she was able to talk to Blodwen. With Blodwen, she'd be able to cry about not being able to share her relationship with the world. Then again, if she could just have Blodwen, it wouldn't be as bad. She'd have someone to be happy with about it. She'd be able to give every stupid detail that only girls can talk about. Gerrit is Gerrit and he'll never be a Blodwen. He'll never understand why she needs to talk about what she needs to talk about. He'll never understand her.


It makes her heart hurt thinking about it. It makes her throat and chest tight with anxiety and depression. He didn't need to say a word for her to know that she can't talk to him anymore. Not about those things. So now she's back at square one.


And she can't talk to John about these things. He'll feel sad with her, but she'll cause deeper sorrow for him. She can't have that. She can't talk shit with him. Not yet. They haven't reached that level where she can feel comfortable being catty and he'll get that it isn't because she necessarily thinks all of those things, but understands she just needs to get it out.


She feels like she's about to explode. Alone. How fucked up is it when you are surrounded by so many people and even have close friends, but can't say a word to them about the things that go on in your head? Things you just need to get out. Things you just need to say so that you can pick them apart, rationalize them, use the experience to be better. Will she ever have that again? She's terrified she never will.


She looks at her phone that has spilled from her dress pocket onto the floor and she considers calling John, expressing her sorrow, but she thinks better of it. She considers just calling Blodwen, but then what would she actually be able to say? Their talks lately have just been the typical. And she's been pretending for months now to still be broken up about Phillip to keep Blods from asking about boys. She'll only be able to get away with that for so long.


And now she feels selfish and horrible herself. How could she think all of these things? But then, how could she not feel all of those things? She wants to be a broken record and it to be accepted that she can be for a little while.


It brings her to what pisses her off most. Gerrit has barely known about her relationship with John and her sorrow about not being able to talk about it for barely two months and he already wants her to shut up about it. They've barely talked about it and yet he's already sick of it. He's already sick of it...


She needs a chick friend, but who could even fill that role?


It hits her, but it is dangerous. Dangerous in that she's perceptive as all hell. She'll figure it out. But then she'd have someone to talk to about everything else. It's what she wants. What she needs. Could she do it?


She sniffles as she sits there, knees pulled up tighter to her chest, tears slower. Maybe its the only way to not feel so alone.