When we first met you told me that you were deeply insecure. I did everything in my power to help you. I broke you down and built you back up again. I made you realise your flaws were strengths in your character, rather than weaknesses. We don’t talk anymore, but you’re still happy.
“Whatever you want” has always been my motto. I’ll go along with something if it will bring others joy. I once told this to my teacher and she got angry. I learnt not to confide in adults after that.
A few years ago I heard a story of a girl who was killed by her boyfriend. Police later found out he had been physically and emotionally abusive towards her. She had plenty of opportunities to tell someone, but she didn’t because she loved him. If love is letting people hurt you then my heart must be a galaxy.
My opinion doesn’t matter. That’s why I’m quiet.
There are billions of songs about heartbreak, yet the majority talk about heartbreak experienced from a lover. What about heartbreak from a parent or sibling or friend? What about heartbreak from yourself? That kind of heartbreak hurts the most.
I don’t have anyone to turn to. I am the confidant, not the confider. I wish someone would ask. I’m losing hope.
The first time I read The Catcher In The Rye, I felt utterly exposed. I was the same as Holden and everyone could see that. No one did. I read it again recently. At least Holden has a reason for being the way he is.
In my psychology class we watched a video about mental illness. One girl had anorexia, saying it was her form of control. Another had bulimia. OCD, schizophrenia, self harm. These terms all mean the same: pain.
A stranger came up to me while I was in London and said she liked my dress. Would she have still liked it if she knew it used to be my dead mothers and I’d nearly bled myself dry over it, frantically bleaching it for hours after to make it pristine again? I said thank you and walked away.
I forget to eat sometimes. And sleep. I forget to function a lot. I don’t do well on my own.
When I was a kid I wanted to be an astronaut because I thought they got to live in space. When I learned the truth, it didn’t change my mind. In space there’s no sound.
In the future, I believe humans will create artificial intelligence models to serve them. I believe these models will turn against humanity and destroy it. I know which side I’ll be fighting for.
I’m getting bad again and there’s no one left.
I wish I could ask for help but I’m not strong enough, so I suppose an apology will suffice. I’m sorry for being weak. I’m sorry for caring too much but caring too little. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you. There are thousands of things I could apologise for. You’ll be fine.