You’re such a strong person.
You have so much strength.
They say I’m strong, it’s meant to be a compliment yet it weighs me down, every letter in the word another straw on my back.
I’m strong so I can take on the world alone, I’m strong and can deal with it, hurt? Nah, I’m strong.
Trauma? It’s okay, you can push through it, you’re strong.
You’ve done it until now, you can keep going! After all you’ve done it alone, we’re here for you, to tell you how strong you are and they walk away, happy knowing they did their part, back to their simple life where hugs are regular, where sadness is helped, weakness is acceptable and even endearing, needing someone else, vunurability being something beautiful to their saviour, the same one that told me moments ago how strong I am and patted me on the back, telling me it was amazing.
Me smiling, knowing they meant well, but they were killing me inside.
I AM STRONG but I fall.
My knees give in and I fall to the floor, I slip on my own tears that fall silently behind sunglasses when I’m angry and confused.
Some days I don’t eat
I can’t sleep
I want to study but I can’t. My mind doesn’t work today and I’m here, on my own, being “strong”. Later I’ll be told I’m lazy for not studying.
My chest hurts from holding in all the pain and being unable to release it for fear of the words that will meet my pain.
“You’re such a strong person, you can do this.”
They’ll hug me, a hug that now feels pressured, I feel stifled and misunderstood.
Today I’m on my knees, my chest burning, my voice cracking, my head spinning.
If this is what strong is, I don’t want it anymore. I want to cry and people care, worry that I can’t get up, helping me up slowly so I don’t get dizzy because I am human.
I am human and yes, I’m strong, but I’m not indestructible.
Take it away, this strenght that makes me so weak. A knight without armour, I fall to the floor, my soul on display in the obvious caos of my house, my sadness in the notes I write to myself on the fridge to remind me I’m alive. My eyes burn, my legs shake. All alone in somewhere I love to call home. I live alone, I like it that way, But I fight every day to not kill myself, alone, I reach out but the hands I seek feel they fulfilled their job, they told me I’m capable, I’m strong and they left.
I bleed inside, I taste blood from biting the inside of my mouth.
I take my medication, numb it please, I silently beg, take it away, just for a while.
Sometimes it’s so hard to remember why I’m taking the medication feeling so bad and having no beautiful highs, moments I felt invincible and pure happiness, that part of me now locked away, I hear her crying, I miss her.
I know my medication can’t make life perfect, I’m not stupid, but give me a reason. Give me a reason to keep doing this…
I can’t afford a phychologist anymore, can I even keep going?
Of course you can, they chorus, you’re strong!