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I’m ******* done. This is too hard. I’m tired of feeling everything this intensely and having absolutely nowhere for it to go. Sometimes I envy The Vampire Diaries — how they can just say, turn it off, and suddenly they don’t feel anything anymore. God, I wish it were that easy. I wish I could switch you off. Switch my heart off. Switch my ******* brain off. I used to drink to numb it. Now, for some reason, it only makes everything louder. You become louder. The thoughts become louder. The ache becomes unbearable. And I don’t know what to do with that anymore. Because underneath the smiles, the small talk and the version of me everyone sees at work, I’m not okay. I’m pretty ****** in the head, if I’m honest. I spend so much of my time pretending I’m fine that sometimes I don’t even know what fine is supposed to feel like anymore. And you have no idea. Maybe that’s the worst part. You get the smile. You get the normal version of me. You’ll never know how much it hurts to stand there in front of you and pretend you don’t matter this much. I just want it to stop. Not because I never cared. Because I cared too ******* much. And I don’t know how much longer I can keep carrying something you were never even asked to hold.
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