“what’s your coping mechanism?”
“self-isolation.”
“i never thought of that.”
“why thou?”
“because i never thought you were capable of keeping all your problems to yourself; you were always there for everyone.”
“not anymore i guess...”
i found myself kneeling, tears carving rivers down on my cheeks, a silent plea for salvation was lost in the void. it was a stark revelation, a bitter truth that when you’re shattered, help is nowhere to be found. no one covets the fractured; they yearn for wholeness, for the unblemished. that’s a harsh reality, a pill that was too bitter to swallow.that realization was a turning point. i began to retreat into solitude. in moments when despair clung to me like a second skin, or when the world’s burdens seemed unbearable, i sought refuge in isolation. solitude became my sanctuary— a safe place‚ for i knew all too well the futility of expecting a savior to pull me from leaving this world.
self-isolation‚ is not an escape from the trials i face; rather, it’s a retreat into a cocoon of self-preservation. a time to gather the scattered pieces of my spirit, to mend the cracks with threads of resilience. in my own‚ i find strength‚ assembling a mosaic from the pieces of myself.
can you save me this time? because right now, i don’t think my coping mechanism can keep me from drowning. i feel like i’m slipping further into the darkness, and i’m not sure how much longer i can hold on alone
i guess seeking for help again wouldn’t hurt like before.