Tuesday ▪ December Thirtieth, 2011 ▪ 10:01 pm
I’m not a very open person, honestly. Even to those who are “closest” to me don’t know half of what goes through my mind. People like Kevin, I tell “everything,” but everything isn’t really everything. I hide a lot and I keep a lot bottled up.
Let’s talk about Kevin first for a bit. I’ve known him since I was going into seventh grade. So I’ve known him since I was about twelve, at this point it’s almost four years. Yes we dated briefly and we are “good friends” (Not really as good as I’d like. We barely talk. We barely see each other. Oh, plus the unrequited feelings I have towards him. Yeah, basically it’s not “good” at all.) Despite all that, I still tell him more than anyone else in my life.
So yeah, I keep a lot bottled up. I have a very difficult time talking about my feelings. And this is due to the fact that throughout my whole life, no one really cared. No one asked me what’s wrong. People ignored me. People were mean. And when I would tell someone how I felt they would shrug it off. They would shrug it off like it was no big deal. And it hurts when you feel like crap and no one gives a shit.
So I stopped. I stopped talking. People didn’t mind, people didn’t question, people didn’t care. It was all the same.
I’m a very insecure person, if you already hadn’t figured it out through all the other posts. But if there is one thing I am confident about, it has to be the fact I’m a good person. I’m nice, I’m not judgmental, I’m there when you need more, I give a mile.
That’s great, you’re probably thinking. But it isn’t. When you’re like me, people don’t care. People treat you like shit when you treat them with decency and kindness. People accept how you give them a mile but never even give an inch. And it hurts. It hurts more than anything.
I’m a good person and I always get treated like crap. And I go home and I cry and cry and cry and I never feel any better. I walk around and no one asks me how I’m doing or what’s wrong.
When I’m upset, no one’s there. But when anyone is sad, I’m always there. No one is ever prepared to give me what I need. They use me like a tissue. They cry and I absorb their tears and then I’m thrown away because now they’re fine and I’m useless.
People treat me terribly and think I can just get up and be okay. But I’m not okay. I’m never okay. I lie, and I keep things in and I can’t tell anyone. If I did tell someone, it would fall on deaf ears. The words would come out but no one would listen to them.
No one would hug me or wipe away my tears or just tell me it’s okay.
No one does anything.