The Letter I’ll Never Send
It went like this.
Dear (fill in this blank),
October wasn’t a rollercoaster of emotions. It wasn’t simply October of the Fall Season. That month was when I found myself in front of a mirror and hating everything reflected back. It was a time in my life I searched for things to end the agony.
The marks, they never leave a scar for longer than a month. The bottles, they never look empty. The canisters, they never leave my room.
You never saw me curled on the bathroom floor, crying my eyes out because I was too damn afraid to be selfish enough to take my life. Damn, why I couldn’t I be selfish?
It’s when I had to redirect my attention to my frizzy hair or when I bought 6 bulbs to plant just so I wouldn’t have to go looking for the stuff that I hid, away from the me, I couldn’t trust. Do you understand? I couldn’t trust you. I couldn’t trust me. So what was left to hold on to?
You think it’s okay to throw words in my direction because I’m good at pretending to be always okay. I wish you’d understand, it takes a lot of effort to be okay. I walk on eggshells every damn day. I’ve told you countless times, it’s okay to joke around, but when I ask to be serious, I wish you’d do the same.
I wish you gave respect.
I wish you’d stop looking at me and seeing what you want to see.
My story isn’t in the way that I smile. It isn’t in the way that we converse. My story is in the way that I tell it to you.
But I’m tired of retelling my story to someone who isn’t listening. If you don’t want to listen, tell me about it. I won’t mistake our friendship for anything more than what it is. I won’t go searching for you when I’m falling down my rabbit hole.
Maybe I opened up too much too soon.