The Secrets That Free Us

Prologue

Everyone just assumes that if you're a teenager you have no problems.

If you're quite you must be shy or just plain ignorant.

If you don't trust people easily you must be stuck up or think you're too good to speak to other people.

People assume things about other people every single day of their lives, yet they never stop to ask themselves "what have they been through to make them like this?"

Why are they always in their head? Why don't they trust people easily? Why do they have a hard time making new friends?

No. No one thinks to ask these questions until the issue has gone un noticed for too long, until something drastic happens, that's when everyone wants to know why you're so fucked up and what's doing on in the darkness of you're own mind. That's when everyone says "I wish they had of opened up"

Everyone wants to help you carry your burdens once they've become too heavy for you to manage on your own, and it's too late for someone to take the time to let you unload on them.

They want to offer support when you're exhausted and empty and have nothing left to give.

Some people do try to help though, but no matter how hard they try, it's still your burden and yours alone.

Take me for example, my burden was too heavy. My problems weighed me down until I had nothing left to give. So here I am, lying here in a hospital bed. I'm vaguely aware of the voices coming in and out of my room and the beeping of the monitor at my bedside. The first thought when I came out from the darkness surrounding me was 'hopefully I'll have better luck next time.' My head is all kinds of fucked up, I've known that for a long time.

My parents think I'm a moody teenager, my brothers speak to me like they're waiting for a time bomb to explode and my sister just thinks I need to lighten up.

But now, as I lie here with doctors and nurses trying to fight for the life that is left in me, the life that I don't particularly care for anymore, everyone wants to know why.

I heard the cries of my family and the unanswered questions they all had. Why did she do this? Why did she not talk to us, tell us what was wrong? Why did she feel like this was her only way out?

This was never about attention, or hurting my family. I didn't even want to die, not really. I just wanted the pain to stop.

I wanted the nightmares while I was sleeping and the pain while I was awake to end. I wanted to escape the never ending torture that was my memories and reality.

My point is, never judge a book by it's cover. Someone could have a nice life, a loving family and friends and seem like they have it all figured out. But really they're fighting with their own mind every single day, trying to survive.