Laughter here ...

My mind is cold and dark. Spinning. The memories are painful, and my head aches. I clench my eyes and clutch my head with wearied hands. There's no escape. All I have is dreams, and I know they are nothing more. My gaze is low and distant. I cannot lift it.
What is wrong with me?
I cannot sleep. I cannot focus. I cannot function. I cannot feign that oh so familiar smile. The cracks are growing. They notice. They worry. And yet, they don't.
Why are there always the most people when you want to disappear?
They surround me. I can't escape it. Questions and smiles. False niceties and constant strangeness. I just want to self destruct. I want everything to fade away under the pretense of perfection until I reach critical mass and everything falls apart.
Perfect until the end.
4.0
Skinny. Scary skinny.
talented
perfect. I must be perfect.
No sleep.
No food.
No joy.
No love.
No home.
Because this house that I live in, this is not a  home. This whirlwind of pain and sorrow and anger is not a home.
We rented out the basement not long ago for need of extra income.
Today I heard laughter, and I was baffled. Until I realized it came from below. They laugh. They are home. I am not.
There is no laughter here.