It’s Marie again. I just wanted to get this off my chest because I feel like everyone is tired of hearing about this at this point.

Here’s some more info about who I am as a person: I find myself being a therapist for even strangers. I just know how it feels to feel so alone, broken, and unheard so I help when I can. I remember how it felt and how terrible I felt as a kid so I help because I don’t want anyone to feel as alone as I did. I decided to become what I needed as a kid.

But I give too much. Too much time, too much energy, too much attention. I give, even if I barely have anything. Even to a few people who wouldn’t even offer a shoulder to cry on or even a listening ear.

It’s not healthy, believe me, for the love of God, I know. But it’s hard. It isn’t easy. I keep repeating to myself, “It’s not always your job to help and be the therapist. It’s not always your job to take care of things.” But I keep thinking that there are people who have no one who understands and I think of all the peace at stake if I don’t do this or do that and before I know it there’s yet another internal scream that may never be released.

I know I’m not okay. It’ll be a while before I’m okay again. But what am I going to do? I feel trapped and so unsure of what my next move is. I just wanna live. Why does that seem to be so much to ask for?

I don’t care what it takes anymore. I don’t care what it risks. I don’t care. I just don’t fucking care. I’M TIRED OF BEING BROKEN AND TELLING EVERYONE I’M FINE!

Or maybe I’m just tired of everyone thinking I’m just fine and because I’m strong enough to paint a smile on my face that I should stand alone? Maybe I’m just tired of erasing what I need to suit the picture for everyone else. Maybe I just wanna burn this picture and start all over again until I’m happy with it.

I don’t wanna just come out and say to my therapist, “I can’t take this anymore. I wish I was dead”. I’m so used to keeping these words to myself that it scares me to throw these words out in the open. But I have to. This is different. I don’t have to stay here anymore.  I have an option to leave now. It’s like waving the key to a prison door in front of me and asking me can I spend a few more years in this familiar place, this place you know so well, or do I actually want to move on. It’s terrifying. It’s painful because I’m so used to getting destroyed because of it. I see why they say it takes courage to do something such as this.