I can’t keep joking about my problems to act like they matter less than they do. I can’t maintain acting like because I don’t want to bother anyone with my issues. Because I don’t want anyone to realize that, beneath the gags, I am secretly struggling.
I can’t maintain forcing smiles that come a second too late, once I realize that the other person was expecting me to give them a reaction. I can’t keep playing the part of someone who has it all together, who has all the answers. I can’t keep helping my friends with their problems and pushing my own problems to the back of my mind for later.
I can’t keep sleeping extra hours so I don’t have to wake up and face my shitshow of a life. I can’t keep hiding inside of my bedroom with my music turned up loud because that’s the place where I feel the safest. I can’t maintain ignoring texts and canceling schemes because the thought of putting gasps on is too much to manage, let alone the idea of actually going outside and socializing.
I can’t keep pretending the route I’m living my life is normal. I can’t keep acting like it’s no big deal when my anxiety and depression show up again because I’m used to it by now. I can’t maintain acting like I don’t matter enough to get the help that I need.
I can’t keep posting pretty paintings on social media that make it look like I am living my best life. I can’t keep lying to make it definitely sounds like everything is going well for me. I can’t keep up the charade for much longer.
I can’t keep treating myself like shit. I can’t keep expecting the worst case scenario to happen. I can’t keep insulting myself whenever the slightest thing goes wrong.
I can’t maintain coping in the same unhealthy routes. I can’t keep drinking on weeknights and wearing long sleeves to hide what’s hidden underneath. I can’t maintain hurting myself inside and out.
I can’t keep claiming I’m fine when I feel like a piece of myself is missing. When I feel so messed up that it’s no longer an emotional problem and has turned into something physical. Into a piece of my toros that is empty, airy,.
I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when I know that something significant needs to change. I can’t keep acting like things are going to get better without me putting in any effort. I can’t keep waiting for the working day when I feel normal again instead of trying my hardest to make that day come early.
I need to get the help that I’ve put off looking for for too long. I need to talk to a trusted friend. I need to talk to a therapist. I need to figure out a route to induce myself okay again. I need to figure out what the hell is going on with me.
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