177. Hiding from people in winter layers.

There's only so much covering up you can do until you overheat.

I think I’m doing a great job of hiding my pain—until I put my glasses on and remember that I’m short-sighted. I assume everyone else sees me the way I see myself: blurred and diffused. But when I put my glasses on, look in the mirror, and see what everybody else sees, I realize I wasn’t doing a great job at all. They say the eyes never lie, and it’s true. Mine are muted and lifeless. Small and swollen. Full of red rivers. I’m not fooling anybody—not even myself.