I am someone who would have been kind if life hadn’t broken me time after time I learned not to cry at a young age I know that I cannot show Any sign of weakness So I hide it I hide it in whispers to myself in the dark I hide my weakness inside the red notebook stashed under my bed I hide my weakness I look so strong I wish someone would Realize they’re wrong that I’m broken instead What broke me? I’m still not quite sure It could be years of being the therapist friend the extra friend when your regular friends weren’t there It could be my best friend telling me what to use if I wanted to hurt so bad it could be the blood oozing on my wrists the blood trickling down my thighs where the skin had been cut open It could be the blood I bleed all the time it’s why I only wear black pants and never shorts the scars on my thighs Sometimes I look at them and believe my eyes are playing tricks on me I used to only see what I wanted to see but now? It feels like I see Everything everything and nothing it’s hard to explain I understand things that I don’t wish to understand but on the other hand so many interactions with others (including friends) Just don’t make sense to me I can’t comprehend I understand both too much and not enough I am both too much and not enough
