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she's a question without answers
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: U S of A
I am currently:  
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Dear Friend (A Letter to Someone who Might Care)
I found this piece I wrote in January of 2005. Many parts of it still ring true.
Dear Friend;
I don't know what to say. I'm tired of hiding everything, and I'm tired of feeling the way I do. And yet, I see you look at me, and you ask me, every week, how I'm doing. Normally, I feed you with the lies, that I'm fine, that I'm alright. And yet, do I tell you the truth? That I'm silently breaking inside? Do I tell you the truth, that although I appear to be doing well, that everything is shattering? You say you care, and you say that anytime I need you, I can come and talk to you. But is it true? If you really knew what I hide, if you really knew everything, would you still have that offer? Would you hold me, and let me cry on your shoulder, or if I told you the truth, would you be disgusted with me? If I told you that I'm struggling with self harm, how would you react? Would you tell me that I'm stupid, that I'm crazy, go running to my parents, or would you love me, support me? Be there, and be there to understand? Or would you shun me? Is it better to keep you, because you're fooled by the lies, that I'm fine, that I'm alright, or would it be better to risk everything by telling you the truth? When I say that I'm fine, will you love me enough to say yo, I know you're lying to me, tell me the truth. They say that eyes are the window to the soul. Do you see inside me, or is that another lie? Do you see the shattered pieces I try so hard to put together on my own, but I can't? Do you see how I'm struggling? When I show up at church on Sundays, do you see my doubts? The questions? The way everything flies through my mind, and I don't even want to be a "Christian" anymore, because I know I'm a hypocrite, and I don't want that to be thought of me? How I hate hypocricy, more then anything, it's my biggest pet peeve, and I'd rather not claim to be a Christian, then appear to be a hypocrite? Do you see how I'm hiding the secrets, about my family, about my past, and although I'd love to share them, I simply can't? And yet, I listen to you cry. I listen to your hurts. I'm your shoulder to cry on, when, in reality, I need my own shoulder. I let you vent at me, even though I don't have the answers, even though I can't solve the problems, I'd even cry with you if that's what you asked. Would you do the same for me? You know how I hate burdening others, and having others worry about me, but, just once, I'd love to tell the world how I really feel. I'd love to take off my facade, which, with time, has become so jaded and worn down. I'd love to tell how I long to fall back into the trap of self harm, how I'm tempted to fall into an eating disorder. How everything seems to be spinning, and I just want to stand on solid ground. Would you still love me? Would you still accept me? I still accept you for your faults, for your problems, and would you do the same for me? They say actions speak louder then words. Prove it to me. Pat my shoulder, give me a hug. Even though I fear the human touch, at times, it's the thing I long for the most. Just for someone to say hey, I care, hey, I'm here for you. And then again, at times, although I love my time alone, and I love my solitude, I long for the presence of someone else. Just to call someone up and say hey, want to go do something, would be simply amazing. And yet, my fear of phones prevents me from doing that. I've literally burst into tears when asked to call someone. Would you understand that? Would you accept my nervousness? Or would you brush my aside, as weird, as different? I know we all have our problems, and we all have our failures, and it seems that I struggle so much. Do you know how much I wish I could be as open with you, as you are with me? Do you know how much I long to fall into your arms, and just let you hold me? Do you know how much I wish I could share my struggles, and yet they hold me capative? If you acutally saw this letter, would you laugh in my face, tear it to shreads? Or would you be the person I long for, the support system I desire?
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