Unloved

It hurts when they ask do you want us to call your parents or do your parents know that you are here. I doubt they would even care. They always say to me snap out of it, pull yourself together be strong. Whilst the doctors are all struggling to determine what is wrong with me, because it is such “a complex array of mental health issues”. Everyone else is concerned. Everyone else can see that I am falling apart. Why do you not take me seriously?

I watch all the other people with their parents, spouses, friends and I wonder where I went wrong. I tried to be kind to people. I wanted to be loved. I wanted people to look out for me. I learnt that I look out for myself. I suppose that it why they say it is emotional instability. Maybe that is why I do not want to be me. I tried, but failed. Now I will try harder. Begin again.

The emotions come back and I always try to dial, send the occasional text. I do not want to cause anyone any pain. It is unbearable. I know that. No one will lose me. I will still be here. My words are every part of me, anyone would want to keep. The mood swings and the glares, I would not even be friends with that. I am constantly reminded about the words. I will always keep the words. They are vulnerably honest. How can you not read it? Believe it. That is the real problem. No one ever believes me. I feel small, silent, unnoticed. Why should what I say matter?

It does. It always does. Opinions. Conversations. Thoughts. That is my definition of expression. That right there is beauty.

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