October 16, 2011

What the hell is my problem?

Yeah, when I'm upset I write.  And most of the time it doesn't make sense.  I swear I've gotten so good at playing my roles that I don't even know me anymore.  And what I mean by that is that while I hurt so bad in every meaning of the word right now, nobody has a clue...not in the slightest.  Yeah, I've revealed my weaknesses now and again, but I can't - not I don't want to but quite literally am incapable of revealing how depressed I really am.  Which I suppose is good to an extent - I'm able to remain stable and function as a normal person in society, but there's no one that knows how close to the edge I am nor anyone to reach out and grab me when I go to fall,  But I have to be this way because people count on me, rely on me.  I rely on me. 

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