Misunderstood

I wish I could make people understand. Understand what it is like to be me. To think what I think, to feel what I feel, to have them truly see and think of a day to day basis how I do. To have them endure the same anxieties that I do on the same level.


Maybe, just maybe people would understand it. People would understand me. If people understood me, they would know that I am a human being, I have feelings. On the outside, I may not be that kid that expresses what I feel, I may not wear my emotions on my sleeve like everyone else but they do exist. I get upset words still do damage. The way people treat me causes damage. From my previous blogs you have gathered that I still struggle with cutting. This semester has been really hard on me. I have had nights where I just need an escape, a quick fix, a way to let everything out. I was doing good until tonight. I fucked up.


If people understood me, they might choose to acknowledge that I exist. I have gone to school here for two years now and I still live in the shadows of everyone's life. I am an after thought, a convenience. I am here to fix your IT problems, or to bring you food, to clean up your mess, and be expected to keep tabs on my roommate. Honestly, nobody has ever come to the room looking for me.
If people understood me, the would learn that my silence is good. I do not sit in silence because I hate people, but because I want to listen. They would know that I do not seek social confrontation because I have been shot down by people over and over again. I isolate myself because that is all I have known.
All of this is just a wish. I wish someone would take the time to get to know me. I want to be understood, I want people to accept me for who I am. I do not want to be changed, I want to be loved. I want to be invested in, to be seen as more than just a warm body that people can take advantage of when needed. X