Big F**king Mood: A New Narrative

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Do you know what it's like to want to reach out and ask for help? To want to say "Excuse me, but I'm dying right now and I'm almost certainly going to cry myself to sleep again tonight. Please help me." and yet refuse to do so? So many words left unspoken every single day. Words that could help, that could prevent. Innumerable.

God, there have been so many nights where I just lay crying in bed with the phone in my hand and two voices arguing in my head.

Ask for help

No one actually cares

They love you

They forget you exist until you bother them again

But it doesn't matter does it? It never does. If I could be self-centered and forget that other people have problems, I'd be so relieved. I wouldn't feel guilty for showing that I get sad too. But I don't "get sad" do I? It's a state of being that I get temporarily distracted from until it's dark and I'm alone again. That is when I am reminded of who I am.

I am a sad, lonely little girl who was beaten into submission by people who probably don't even remember my name.

I am a girl who will never take the words I love you, I'm here, or I care at face value.

I am a girl who registers even the smallest shift in emotion, expression, or body language and immediately wonders what I did wrong.

I am chipped cracked broken, and I will never be fully fixed.

- to all the things I don't say