Hurt is not an emotion. It is a growth that multiplies with you as you age, spreading like cancer to your heart, and hardening it to the point of never wanting to feel again. You feel weak and useless, because the pain you feel is nothing compared to what is going on in the world to other people. "You can't fix your computer and you need it? Well someone somewhere else is dying of hunger and watching their family eat in front of them." "You can't figure out how to talk to your parents without dreading an argument? Well too bad, because someone somewhere else wishes they still had their parents." All of these voices telling you that you don't deserve to feel pain. That you are above feeling hurt or negative emotions. Nothing that you could possibly go through could measure up to someone else. 

You then realize you can taste salt at the corners of your mouth. All these dark thoughts telling you to kill yourself for being so weak, or to maim your leg since you can't handle all the pressure of playing sports to appease your parents. What are you doing on this earth if you can't handle any of the most simple things in life. You get yelled at by your parents, and you want to gouge your eyes out. That is weak and stupid. Nothing they did or said to you measures up to all the abuse other people go through on a daily basis.

Your story isn't important enough to have a story, a plot, or emotional rollarcoasters. You are nothing...

So you grew up with this mindset well into Elementary School. You never told anyone, because you felt it wasn't worth mentioning. Stabbing yourself over and over with the led from the mechanical pencil you swept under the rug as weakness. Holding the knife in your hand making you shake with frustration that it didn’t slit your wrist while it was in the sink as you cleaned the dishes, you swept under the rug as being too emotional to do anything right. All the friends who back-stabbed you, you swept under the rug as you deserving it. You just stayed with your head down, lost in your own drawings and thoughts. Too afraid of anyone to dress up nicely, or to do anything to attract attention. 

You had a lot of "friends" but to you they were just people you talked with about that one thing. You never wanted to open up and tell anyone anything substatial about yourself, because you were afraid they would use it against you like all the others. You were a hermit in an ocean filled to the brim with curious people. They all seemed to flock to you. All the ones who felt shunned from society came to you. Every friend you made came to you. Everything you needed came to you. But why. Why you when there were so many other people. More deserving people. More inspired people. Sure you had dreams and ambitions, but they could never measure up to others.

You pause.

Why are you so special?

You start to think about yourself as a person, instead of a useless object in time and space. As a living thing like all the rest. You start to see more color than before. You start to see more vivid details than before.

I AM a living, breathing, human being.

You're emotions don't make you weak. They empower you. People flock to you, because you don't judge them, you love them for themselves. Your emotions aren't something to be ashamed of. They aren't something to hide. You are a person, with a story. Even if it isn't as big or grand or hard as anyone else’s, it’s yours. You deserve a story, YOUR story. Comparing yourself to others is pointless. 

Don't be embarrassed to share how you feel, don't let the dark thoughts cloud your mind from everything you wish you could do. You have emotions, and should not be ashamed to express them. You're story isn't something to want to kill yourself over. You should live to tell it. Tell it as many times as possible. Love that you made it far enough to tell it. Sure other people are suffering more, but you aren't those people. You are you. 

No matter what it is, what it takes, how hard it seems. 


This is the first time I share this. Share your story. It feels good to let it go.


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