You Should Know Where I’m Coming From


It starts out with the simplest of questions.

“What’s wrong?”

I don’t know how to answer or if I should.

Do I hold back or really let loose?

Holding back has always been my go-to. People never ask you what is wrong really wanting to know the real answer. If they do, there’s no way they’d understand the magnitude of the shitstorm brewing in me. I could bare my soul to millions. They could tell me they understand; but we all know they don’t because if they did, they wouldn’t be so quick to brush you, and what you’ve confided, off so nonchalantly afterwards. My heart has been ransacked with pain and misery for as long as I can remember. There are days, like today, where the mere thought of facing the day with everything swirling in your head leaves you suffocating. The more you find out, the more you feel as if someone is coming up from behind you, choking the life out of you. At some point you just stop fighting back. Temporary happiness is no longer something you strive for. Once it fades, it’s hell to pay.

“Are you okay?” they ask. It almost seems as if they’re mocking you. Like what you’re feeling is just overly dramatic and can’t ever be justified.

It’s just one question. One question with a million unspoken answers.

“No,” I reply; and nothing you say or do will ever change that.

So please leave me alone.

I need to get used to this for future references.

“What if I knew I would just rip your mind apart? Would you let me out?”


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