Monolouge Of An Screwed Up Teen.

Dont Think You Know Me.

I was with a friend.
We were talking about how he could read people really easily, he knew what they were like from a gut feeling.
He said "I can read you like a book"
I laughed and said try me.
He said "you like to try and carry the weight of the world on your shoulders even if it will kill you, also you are headstrong, and very proud, you are conceited and a bit fray, never been insecure at all, constantly happy, kinda jittery and rarely ever nervous, and you talk yourself out of situations easily"

I laughed knowing only about half of that is true and said "you got me." I wasnt gonna tell him the truth, I didn't want him trying to help carry my load and all the bad things, memories and insecurities that depress me into a cripple, because if he did then I would feel worse.
He shouldn't carry my pain.
Nobody knows my pain.
Not you.
Not her.
Not him or anyone.
The physical, whether done myself or by the bullies,
The mental done by everything,
I'm screwed up. I need help.
But I don't want any because it would burden someone else.
Forget about me.