venting

there is nothing i would rather do more than just vent to you. i could tell you my whole life story, from beginning to end. every moment of pain and tragedy could escape my head and float in the air between us, hanging like a thick smoke. maybe i could feel like myself again. maybe i could feel whole, because right now, i feel less and less human and more along the lines of a shadow. i do not own this body. i am not worth the space i fill. i am not worth the life i am living. sleepless nights are spent wanting to text you awake, but i stop myself. you need the sleep, and i need to stop worrying. but what if i do text you? would you pity me? i would rather you think me brave for surviving, brave for telling someone. i told my mom once, but she got angry. "everyone wants to kill themselves," she said. so i stopped talking about it. i bottled up everything. now im posting it on a website, and i feel bad for anyone that keeps reading, but im glad they keep going. its a relief to know that someone is listening.

tonight i will sit in bed, staring at my phone and wishing i could tell you, but you are not a therapist and i am not brave enough regardless. please know that if anything happens, i always wanted to tell you. i knew i could talk to you. but i did not want to share my burdens because i was afraid you would worry about me. dont worry about me. please dont worry. just let me vent