Why is it that other’s coping skills for a trauma or tragedy always cost me more pain?
It’s been that way four times in the past four years, and I cannot go through this one more time.
If you avoid me as a way of coping, my mental illness immediately assumes that I did something, you’re mad, I hurt you.
I spin wondering what happened, why our worlds pulled apart in my time of greatest need. What did I do wrong? Over and over and over and over.
It’s always other people, and I will give my heart to no one else. I have so much love to share, but will keep it steeled away.