“ Don‘t cry” they say, as if I could help it. As if you knew what was going on in my head. For if you really did know, that is not a phrase you would be saying. What if I told you I was on the verge of suicide? What if I said all I wanted was a knife? Then you would avoid telling me not to cry. No, you’d say that it would all get better. Then take me to a mental hospital. So don’t ask me to spill my soul or tell you all my secrets. For I know that you wont return the favor by asking what would help me. Of course not you’ll try your hardest to get rid of me.