Poetry and some other shit

Be kind, be strong.

I'm weak.
I feel sad
and angry
and I'm in so much pain,
and I can't even find the strength to
talk to anyone about it.
So I have to go on stupid watt pad
and write a stupid poem
just so I won't do something even more stupid than that.

And it's so stupid.
I know it is.
Because there's a lot of people that love me,
Who would gladly drop everything to listen to me cry on the phone.
I know that.
I do.

But it's too hard.
Because being vulnerable is hard.
It's easier to be vulnerable with the people that are further away,
(emotionally or physically).
I don't know exactly why.

And oh my god,
it's so stupid.
Because my best friends in the entire world?
I don't talk to them,
Not about stuff like this,
Not anymore.
And my family members?
I wish more than anything I could find it in myself to ask for their help.
And the person who makes me so genuinely happy, who can make me laugh just by raising her eyebrows, who I care about beyond words?
I just can't. I don't have a reason.
And my mom?
She's the reason I feel alone.

To talk to people,
It takes strength that I don't have.

And a few weeks ago,
We went back to the Buddhist retreat land where I grew up.
And there was a teacher there,
A Rinpoche.
(Google it).
He's known me since I was born.
I respect him more than probably anyone.
All the people under 18 got a chance to talk to him as a group.
He told us, be kind.
As we were leaving, he looked me in the eyes and said quietly, be strong.