I know that I can’t. I’m a shocking secret keeper. Anything you have told me in confidence, I have probably told my mother. Or at least a diary.
To add to this, I’m also a terrible liar. People can tell when I lie to them, and they can tell when I’m not quite telling the entire truth.
Here’s a truth for you: I wake up wishing that I hadn’t. Not all the time, only occasionally. I go to bed and my body is physically aching. My mind is stretched and sprained. I’m not ‘ok’. I wasn’t before the variety of incidents that made it worse. But now it feels like everything is an effort.
I know what you’re thinking: Shut up and get on with it. Life isn’t that bad. Get over it.
Well guess what? For me, life is that bad. The only thing keeping me going is the hope that I will graduate from university someday and move into a career that isn’t nearly as soul crushing as what I do now.
I live in hope that the man I love will finally realise that we are meant to be together, despite all that has happened between us. Love is love. It’s not that complicated.
I hope that one day, I won’t feel so alone.
I hope that this one day will be soon.
I hope that I will get through this.
I hope that the pain will end.
I hope that I’ll be ok.
My secrets aren’t so secret. Anyone who knows me knows all my secrets. I am an open book. At least I used to be. I used to be the girl that would wear her heart on her sleeve and tell the world all her thoughts and emotions.
I can’t be that girl anymore. It all hurts too much.
I hope that when you read this, that if you know me in person, you will come see me and be there. Just be there, even though I’ll probably push you away and tell you I’m fine, it’s just an off day.
Here’s another not-so-secret: I’m not ok. I want to hurt myself. I want to make it all stop. The pain to stop. The constant aching. The constant thoughts of not being good enough. I want to hurt myself so I can control my own pain and be the master of my fate.
One more secret: none of what is happening to me is your fault. I don’t blame anyone else for the way I feel now. It was all my own fault. I didn’t have to push the love of my life out the door. If you are reading this, and you will know who you are if you do: please know that none of it was your fault. You are so much stronger than I am. Please be strong for the both of us. I need you and the thought of that terrifies me.