Mamarati

and I ain’t gonna off myself. So don’t ask. Trust me. I’m just working it all out.

and I don’t want your cheery words. Not that cheery words are bad.

but I don’t want to hear it. It doesn’t help me work it out. I’m not looking for a solution.

I have to write it down so I can feel it here. All the stuff I bottled up. I do it here because it’s safe.

And if you start acting all judgmental and start calling the authorities because you think I’m going to do something that might harm myself or others, then the police or whoever will just laugh when they show up and see my life. They will laugh at you. Because this is only going on inside my head. On the outside I’m as together as the next guy. Not perfect, but good enough. On the inside is where I deal with my scars.

And if you don’t like it, then don’t be here.

I am ungrateful for your uplifting, happy words.

And that sucks, and I’m sorry.

I just don’t need that stuff because it makes me want to die for spite. Haha.

All I need is to just write it. Because I feel it.

I don’t necessarily need to do it. It’s all part of the therapy.

And I really really really have this hard core urge to go private, but like, I ain’t gonna. Because this is my space to do this.

Deal with it, and know that I am OK. And that I’ll be grateful again later on another day when I’m in love with life again. A day when I’m happy to know that a world exists out there outside myself.

Just let me have my habit. and not break it or change it.

Tomorrow or next year or in a minute, I will be OK, I don’t even know when the mood will strike me.

But it seems to come around, right?