"So you need to talk to me...what's going on?"
"Are you really sure you want to know? Are you sure you're ready for what I'm going to say - it's not good. You have to promise not to freak out."
"Okay. Tell me."
And so I did. And after I told him, he freaked out. I guess it's understandable - I'm his little sister, and things aren't right in my head by any means. And as much as I may want to negate my own existence; to stamp it out entirely, I know...they won't let me. Even if they can't actually stop me... their existence does.
And so...I'm trapped.
I hate knowing I'm putting them through this. I'm the kind of person who - if I was diagnosed with cancer - most likely wouldn't tell anyone at all, because I don't want other people to have to deal with what I consider to be solely my own problems.
This time, though - I've truly fallen apart and lost my mind. It's impossible for them not to see, to sense, to know that something isn't right.
"I only found out a couple of weeks ago that you've been on medication since you were 14...and I'm your brother. That hurt, you know?"
I know.
It hurt me, too. But not as much as it hurts knowing you know.
Tonight appears to be another night of no sleep and writing absolutely nothing of consequence... too many of those, lately.
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1 comment:
It's a hard one isn't it? How to correctly conceal the humiliation whilst keeping the feelings of those around you in tact. To withold all the grisly, gruesome, debilitating details of your downfall. To feel like things are that bad that you still can't admit the depth and weight of all the things that grate and eat away at you day to day. And then to have to feel that overwhelming ache and guilt because someone else is hurting because you hurt. To then have to convince and persuade everyone that everything is fine or will be fine even if you don't know that.
I don't know. There's nothing I can say probably that will do anything. That will do enough. This makes me sad. I'm sorry, hopefully it will get better.
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