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I constantly wonder how my life looks in other people’s eyes. Do they think I have it easy? Do they think I have nothing going on for myself? Or are the fascinated with who I am? The thing is that no one will ever know my whole story. No one will ever know the things I’ve had to overcome. Not even my closest friends, not even my own family. The thing is that people are so quick to judge now a days. You only see a person from what they want and allow you to see. I always try to look as put together as if can and I guess that’s my way of hiding from the truth. It’s just that way, everyone will assume that everything in my life is okay, that I never go through anything. If only everyone knew how broken I am, and how I’m holding on for dear life on this one last strand that’s recently become very delicate. The truth is that no one really knows me. No one will ever know me and sometimes that scares me, because no one will ever know why I am the way I am.

you know that feeling? When you’re just waiting. Waiting to get home, into your room, close the door, fall into bed, and just let everything out that you kept in all day. That feeling of both relief and desperation. Nothing is wrong. But nothing is right either. And you’re tired. Tired of everything, tired of nothing, all at once. And you just want someone to be there and tell you it’s okay. But no one’s going to be there. And you know you have to be strong for yourself, because no one can fix you. But you’re tired of waiting. Tired of having to be the one to fix yourself and everyone else. Tired of being strong. And for once, you just want it to be easy. To be simple. To be helped. To be saved. But you know you won’t be. But you’re still hoping. And you’re still wishing. And you’re still staying strong and fighting, with tears in your eyes, you’re fighting back.