God, I’m drowning. I fell into the waters months ago but only now do I accept that I’m drowning. It feels good to admit, feels good to get it off my chest but it doesn’t help me swim better nor do the people around the waters notice that I’m not okay.

I’m supposed to be but I’m not and they can’t see it, so they keep throwing me into their worlds thinking that mine is intact while in fact everything is falling apart. I’m the one they run to, so maybe I was there for them too much so they can’t see I need someone or maybe that’s why they don’t know how to be there for me.

I sometimes wish someone could just hug me but then I’m terrified I will break down in tears and when they ask what’s wrong, I won’t be able to explain. Do I tell them I contemplate suicide, do I tell them I want to disappear and just run away or do I say I’m afraid their reasons won’t be enough to make me stay?

I’m tired of feeling wrong for not being able to help them, I’m tired of feeling like I’m to blame for their decisions because I can’t solve them. I’m tired of existing for everyone but me, yet all this loneliness does is make me want to bring joy to others because I never want to see them where I am. I’m tired of being ask when I’m going to post something new.

I’m afraid to be alone now, so I find excuses to make sure I’m not, I got tired of the thoughts burying my logic and risking ending it all. I thought of getting help but the people I turned to let me down, I begged, I pleaded and all I got was a broken heart and wounded ego. My ego hurt because I believed when they said they would always be there, so I staked my pride on their loyalty and my heart is broken because I needed them to mend the pieces and they saw no need to.

I have began a journey of amends, trying to fix what I can, where I can. Broken friendships, broken relationship, so just in case I lose this battle, none of them should be worry or feel they could have done better.

I don’t even know why I wrote this or if I will post this. Writing stopped being my medicine years ago, it moved from healing to being a coping mechanism. I became numb and convinced myself that words on the pages were the best way to deal with everything. Guess I was wrong.

I was told years ago that happiness and misery are like the sun and moon, because you see one doesn’t mean the other isn’t there. You just need to wait for its turn to shine on you. So I shall wait for the moon to pass.