Mask

Mask

There are only so many people who know the real me. Who know what I have locked deep inside of myself. I can’t even begin to understand where I would be if I didn’t have those 2 or 3 real friends. The rest of my “friends” are the kind of people who will judge you for your life choices and tell the world your life. They’ll turn on you in a second if it even slightly benefits them.
I wake up every morning and check my phone, not to see what time it is, but to see if the girl texted me. The one girl that I’ve allowed in. The first girl I’ve allowed in for so long. She makes me feel like I don’t have to hide the me on the inside. I don’t think she really understands how much she really means to me. It’s unbelievable really…how much she makes me feel like everything will be ok…like absolutely everything is going to be perfect. It’s insane. I go to sleep at night and I download all of my problems onto myself. Most nights it takes several hours for me to fall asleep. Some nights I can’t sleep at all, leaving me to wallow in my mind until the next morning, when I have to put my mask back on for the world. I was once in a very dark place. I was so close to suicide. I hide that dark part of my past from the world because it makes me feel weak. It makes me feel weak because of how selfish I was. To think of taking my life without caring about the consequences. Of course I thought about the people who would care, not that I could think of many. Wow, this is getting really dark really fast. Sorry about that.
It would be awesome if I had something uplifting and inspirational to say at the end of all of this like: “you just gotta stick with it and truck through” or some shit like that. But unfortunately I don’t. I guess I can tell you this though: It’s not really about how your friends look at you, or what they say to you. When I contemplated suicide, I didn’t tell anyone. It was all me. It was me who forced myself through it. It was me who was strong for me. Not my friends who were strong for me. I didn’t put my burdens on my friends backs and expect them to lift me up (I mean I told someone afterwards, in the post depression). When you’re that low, it’s up to you to pick yourself up. Yeah, help from friends or family is awesome, but deep down it’s what you think matters and will get you through that rough spot.
There, I guess I did have something uplifting to say. Now, excuse me, I have a mask to wear.

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