But you seem fine.
You look like you’ve been doing well!
You don’t seem depressed on social media.
Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling bad?
Don’t assume. You know what they say. I’ve gotten so good at hiding how I feel, shoving the emotions down so far I seem to misplace them altogether, that even those closest to me don’t see a thing.
I’m sneaky. I’m clever. I know the right things to say and do and wear. I know how to hide the scars, internal and external, and pretend like they’re not even there (are they even there?)
I’m sneaky. I’m clever. This gets me in trouble.
I’m often in trouble.
I don’t want you to take it personally. Really, I don’t. It’s not you, it’s me (really, it is).
The facade I maintain is one I’ve been perfecting for years, my fears of vulnerability stemming from…
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