Behind bolted doors I can’t help but sink to the floor and let the hurt in my heart slip down my cheeks in a silent protest. People say I don’t care about anything, that I feel no remorse for anything, that I am cold, bitter and replaceable. I only stare into the distance letting my thoughts wander, knowing if I listen my resolve will shatter. I am through helping those that seem to need it, I am through trying to give people reasons to smile, I am through trying to love and be loved. My heart can only take so much before I have to hide myself and let my weakness show. Sitting here on this cold floor letting the tears fall freely I remember every word, hearing the criticisms echo through the static in my head. I want to rip out my hair, I want to tear apart these walls, I want to slam my face into the floor and scream out the pain I genuinely feel in my heart, but I remain still and silent. I want only to close off my heart now, I cannot take more disapproval and hope to keep my sanity. I do not want to feel anymore for fear that I will only be burned again. I have said this all before, over and over to myself, but each time I fall into old patterns, trying to help those that seem to need it.