I used to scare you.
You used to be terrified, tiptoeing around me at every corner, analyzing every sentence for hidden blades before you let out even a single syllable.
Because god forbid I be allowed anywhere near something sharp.
You told me to be careful anytime I told you I was about to shower because you knew there were razor blades on the shelf. You worried every time I was doing one of my sculptures with a x-acto blade because you knew I was prone to clumsiness. One cut was enough to set me off, in your mind. You wanted to wrap me up in everything soft in the world and keep me safe in some kind of bubble you had created.
But not everyone with a problem ends up in rehab and not everyone gets better no matter how many of their knives you take away and not all of us fucked up teenagers get discovered.
He tells me all the time that the reason he failed and freaked out was because he was in a dark place and I'll never understand.
Maybe he's right, because I never understood how a personal mental breakdown could justify a breakdown of the real world. I have more grumpy days than the average person and maybe that's because I'm keeping it all bottled up inside and refuse to see a therapist, but maybe it's just that I've been getting worse at lying.
I'm fine isn't even the issue here.
No one ever found me out. No one ever suspected a thing because I was brilliant at what I did. You only found out because one day I made the mistake of opening up. I made the mistake of thinking someone might understand. But you didn't get it and you never got me.
You didn't understand there are such things as triggers and you didn't understand that while I cared about you, you set me off. You never got that the pain I caused to myself was less about suffering and more about wanting to feel. You were hurting my brain and you were hurting my veins and I was having panic attacks lull me to sleep at night.
No amount of your pathetic asking and tiptoeing could have ever made me better because there's someone who is far more important than you ever were and the only reason I want to get better is because I want to be able to face her in the mirror for the first time in my whole goddamn life.
You were nothing but toxic waste and I'm sorry, but I had every right to terminate you.
Sincerely,
xx
Blue
But not everyone with a problem ends up in rehab and not everyone gets better no matter how many of their knives you take away and not all of us fucked up teenagers get discovered.
He tells me all the time that the reason he failed and freaked out was because he was in a dark place and I'll never understand.
Maybe he's right, because I never understood how a personal mental breakdown could justify a breakdown of the real world. I have more grumpy days than the average person and maybe that's because I'm keeping it all bottled up inside and refuse to see a therapist, but maybe it's just that I've been getting worse at lying.
I'm fine isn't even the issue here.
No one ever found me out. No one ever suspected a thing because I was brilliant at what I did. You only found out because one day I made the mistake of opening up. I made the mistake of thinking someone might understand. But you didn't get it and you never got me.
You didn't understand there are such things as triggers and you didn't understand that while I cared about you, you set me off. You never got that the pain I caused to myself was less about suffering and more about wanting to feel. You were hurting my brain and you were hurting my veins and I was having panic attacks lull me to sleep at night.
No amount of your pathetic asking and tiptoeing could have ever made me better because there's someone who is far more important than you ever were and the only reason I want to get better is because I want to be able to face her in the mirror for the first time in my whole goddamn life.
You were nothing but toxic waste and I'm sorry, but I had every right to terminate you.
Sincerely,
xx
Blue
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