Sometimes I’m really crying for help,
but when I hear - Hello, how are you?
My mouth says: I’m fine thank you.
Sometimes I just want a hug but my hands push people even further away from me as if saying get away from me.
Sometimes I want to call 911 but I end up on Facebook or Twitter, scrolling for hours and putting up laughing emojis that will never reach my face.
It’s easy.
It’s easier, to give in to habits that continue to help me chip away at my soul instead of just fighting for the change I crave...
Talking has become so much easier but also not.
Apparently I’m such a terrible judge of character that I tell my pain to all those who can’t actually help me or think I’m overacting...
- “You don’t have depression, you just don’t exercise enough”
- “you don’t have anxiety, you just need to stop being shy”
- “Saying you are suicidal is so dramatic, did you not get enough attention as a child?”
Well I’m sorry,
I’m sorry that I’m sorry because I’m sorry.
No. It’s not your fault I’m like this, but I am like this as a result of my environment.
However, We are both part of this environment. I guess our reactions are different.
Just move on & forget it. - repeated like the worst soundtrack that’s stuck in a record player that has the battery of a lifetime.
But it feels like when a dog is carrying ticks, sucking the very life out of it but because it’s covered in furs we can ignore it for a time
Until that tick begins to grow from under the fur and it gets bigger, bloodier & ugly just hanging onto the skin hoping to get every last drop before it eventually falls off after planting its seeds that will soon mature and continue right where momma tick had started...
I’m always going to be that young girl. Who cried into her pillow at night, woke up completely exhausted but went through the day as if she hadn’t a worry in the world.
To be honest I can’t sit and feeling sorry for myself, I've tried that too many times and it didn't seem to bring the result I needed or wanted, so here I am trying a different way.
We all carry something a little dark, something a little broken with us... for the things that are killing me, slowing chipping away at my soul, I don't know If I’ll ever have enough courage to ask for help..
Instead my lips will curve and I’ll look you dead in the eye & say,
I’m fine, thank you.
but when I hear - Hello, how are you?
My mouth says: I’m fine thank you.
Sometimes I just want a hug but my hands push people even further away from me as if saying get away from me.
Sometimes I want to call 911 but I end up on Facebook or Twitter, scrolling for hours and putting up laughing emojis that will never reach my face.
It’s easy.
It’s easier, to give in to habits that continue to help me chip away at my soul instead of just fighting for the change I crave...
Talking has become so much easier but also not.
Apparently I’m such a terrible judge of character that I tell my pain to all those who can’t actually help me or think I’m overacting...
- “You don’t have depression, you just don’t exercise enough”
- “you don’t have anxiety, you just need to stop being shy”
- “Saying you are suicidal is so dramatic, did you not get enough attention as a child?”
Well I’m sorry,
I’m sorry that I’m sorry because I’m sorry.
No. It’s not your fault I’m like this, but I am like this as a result of my environment.
However, We are both part of this environment. I guess our reactions are different.
Just move on & forget it. - repeated like the worst soundtrack that’s stuck in a record player that has the battery of a lifetime.
But it feels like when a dog is carrying ticks, sucking the very life out of it but because it’s covered in furs we can ignore it for a time
Until that tick begins to grow from under the fur and it gets bigger, bloodier & ugly just hanging onto the skin hoping to get every last drop before it eventually falls off after planting its seeds that will soon mature and continue right where momma tick had started...
I’m always going to be that young girl. Who cried into her pillow at night, woke up completely exhausted but went through the day as if she hadn’t a worry in the world.
To be honest I can’t sit and feeling sorry for myself, I've tried that too many times and it didn't seem to bring the result I needed or wanted, so here I am trying a different way.
We all carry something a little dark, something a little broken with us... for the things that are killing me, slowing chipping away at my soul, I don't know If I’ll ever have enough courage to ask for help..
Instead my lips will curve and I’ll look you dead in the eye & say,
I’m fine, thank you.
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