I’m not selfish enough to let go. I want to, but I know how much it would hurt my family. I don’t want to be the cause of the problems. I am always the peacemaker.
I keep dreaming about it though. It is romanticized to the point of beauty. I know I am unhealthy. I’d rather kill myself slowly with diet and exercise. (I’ve lost 4 pounds this week. My ribs are showing again.)
I know I have a problem, but I can barely talk to a teacher, a friend. (I locked myself in the bathroom because I had to knock on Dr. Cesie’s door. I know he thinks the world of me. He’s always so nice.) Imagine me going to see a stranger. Ask a stranger for help.
I go on the internet because I can be weak, vulnerable. I can hide behind a proxy and say the things I want to scream to society. Resnet.
I feel like I am in a prison. I hide from best friends and exlovers. I pretend I’m working. Oh so busy. I can’t talk to anyone.
I guess it truly is a cry for help, but I haven’t got the courage to ask. I don’t want to know the answer. I couldn’t imagine how bad it would be if I failed. What if I succeed. I can’t cause them more problems. People think that I will go far (into hell?).
I say I can’t do it because of them. Actually I can’t try because of what they might think of me.