I'm like a flower. More specifically I'm like the red rose flower. I can sprout my petals. My delicate fragile petals that can easily be pluked and pulled away from my stem. Or I can just wither away and my beautiful, delicate, red fragile petals will turn black and eventually become nothing.
I say this because it's true about me in a way. I'm like the rose flower. I can open up and be myself. But then it's ripped away from me just like the delicate rose petals can be pluked from it. Being myself is pretty hard where I live. Even remotely trying is hard because I'll be shut down time after time. I'm never completely content. Once again I compare myself to the rose because. I will wither away and my petals become black and they slowly fall. My depression, sadness, anger, and anxiety will become to much where I can no longer handle it. After faking my happiness. After being so fake. After trying so hard to be normal when I'm not. I can't handle it. So I breakdown and I cry and cry till I wish for some sort of relief. But I never find that relief. I can't find anything that distracts me from wanting to wither and die. I never ask for much. I just want very few things. The one thing that I want the most is to be myself.. I don't want to hate myself.. But I do so much.. I tried to get help that didn't work. I tried to be someone I'm not and it never works. No matter what it never works.. -This is something I wrote on how I feel-
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