Trying to maintain the facade that you’re okay, that everything’s going to be fine. You tell yourself to be strong, to stop being miserable, to buckle up, you don’t want to give off the impression that you’re someone whose amongst the weak, someone who only brings a negative atmosphere to the room, so every time someone asks you if you’re okay, you stand there with a smile and reply “i’m okay, honest”. Why lie? Exactly all of those reasons I’ve listed above, that’s why, and not only are you lying to the person whose giving a damn to care, but most importantly, you’re lying to yourself. I’ve learnt to hide any pain I’m truly feeling, for most days I can numb my emotions, push them aside and forget that I even have any feeling at all, stay silent and hide amongst the crowd. It’s been a year since I’ve felt any urgency to cry, to feel need to relieve myself from everything or anything that I’m feeling, what I’m feeling. Part of me feels like maybe confiding in someone would make it easier, instead of bottling everything, then again, contribute to the thought or feeling of being a burden? To scare them with what might come out my mouth, when some of the things I think or feel even scare myself? I think not. Why would I want to offload my problems on to somebody else anyway, when they probably already are dealing with enough of their own. I went through eight years of constantly feeling as if I was alone, as if the world was against me, pitying myself, complaining about everything and anything because I generally wasn’t in a happy place, and I already knew then that people saw me differently. Not once, nor ever do I wish to return to the place I was once emotionally in, sometimes it frightens me that it could happen, or that this is the start of it happening again. Sometimes the world gets a little to loud, you can’t contain what you feel anymore, so as soon as you’re behind closed doors your defences come down, it’s usually at this point that I can’t help but look at my reflection and wonder what’s wrong with me, or what’s right. I miss how things used to be, when things were so innocent, when I’d believe that people cared, where I’d feel that I was actually worth something, I’m exhausted, emotionally, all I want to do is please others and yet in-turn all I find that I’m doing is unconsciously neglecting my own state of health instead; there’s only so many times you can tell yourself to cheer up, that it’ll get better, there’s only so much you can do to distract yourself, and as much as I don’t want to admit defeat, in my mind it feels I can do no more or i’m at the end of my tether; I’m 21 and I’ve barely even lived, I shouldn’t be so scared to do so but yet I am. Sometimes I’d wish someone could hug me, hold me close, just show me they understand, even if they don’t, show me they care, without being judgmental, but instead I don’t have anybody like that, I’m just left feeling alone, broken, confused, I don’t understand emotions that well as it is. To my parents I’m merely a form of gossip, they don’t care, and if they do they have a particularly funny way of showing it, I know that they do, do some good, but it doesn’t mean I can leave behind every little thing that’s ever hurt me, as I’ve grown up it seems like the balance of it has been more bad than good. They put on this facade themselves when any professionals are in the room, or when required, they’ve given up almost the same as I have myself and I’m not the only one who’s seen that either, and to other’s I’m just there when they need me to be. My health is just something my mother uses to knock me over the head with, as if I brought matters on myself, never did I ask for what I have, so how am I to blame? That lingers, words said never really fade, they stick, the same with memories, even now when trying to do things myself, be more independant, I feel as if I’m getting little support; if I could take everything I’ve developed over the past few years away in a second, I’d do so in a heartbeat. I take care of myself when I have my seizures, nobody else is going to, it’s my responsibility even whilst unconscious and not in control, or so it seems. I could go to sleep and wake tomorrow and forget this ever happened, then something what ever it may be’ll set me off, remind me or make me remember of this, and all the rest where I remember what it’s like to truly feel, I don’t like it and yet it feels impossible to stop it, I find I can only control my emotional state for so long before it swaps roles and becomes in control of me; my mood seems as unstable and as unpredictable as myself; I don’t image a future for myself, I’m just wondering aimlessly without any meaning or direction, I’m just tryna concentrate on being happy with myself as a priority, and admittedly that worked rather well for a while, but now I feel like I’ve suddenly just reached the point where I’ve burned out; I don’t even feel like I need to push anybody away like I used too because I don’t even feel like anybody’s there to begin with anymore; everything’s just becoming difficult, and I don’t know whether this is the Borderline Personality Disorder seeping through that I still somewhat reject and refuse to believe I have or what, but right now I just don’t feel like me; I feel disconnected, it’s pretty easy to handle the positive feelings, but the negative, not so much. I don’t want to be in touch with my emotions if this is what feeling is like, I don’t want to have the impulse or urge to self harm because in the moment it feels like it’s the only thing that’ll make things better, when in reality and at the aftermath of it all, it won’t, it’ll just make me regret my actions and’ll make me feel stupid; I don’t pity myself, I’m not really sure what I feel for myself, but who I do feel anything for, is for those that have to or do, put up with me and the way I am; I’m not exactly asking for anybody’s sympathy or empathy, I don’t hand it out much myself, but for someone to walk by my side, for someone to understand, for someone to remind me that I’m not alone, that’s all I’ve ever needed, thats all I ever ask.