I have realized something: I’m not okay.
Maybe that’s not the problem though.
The problem is that I don’t think… Actually, I’m pretty darn sure that no one I know would agree with that.
Isn’t that weird?
Maybe that shouldn’t bother me. Well, the fact that everyone thinks I’m fine doesn’t really bother me. I should be happy… I mean… no one knows anything is wrong.
What bothers me is that I’ve been so good at hiding all these years that no one knows I’m not okay. It bothers me that…
I don’t know how to stop hiding.
And I want to. (I think.)
Okay, so I don’t.
I don’t know what I want.
I do know I’d rather not hide forever.
I do know I’m not okay.
…And no one believes me…