when I was seven, I decided I would never be insulted again because what they want is a reaction and they become bored if they didn’t get it
When I was 10 i stopped asking for help because of the insistence that i should know that or i was smart enough to figure it out
when i was 14 i decided that it was easier to give up on people before they gave up on me
when I was 17 I decided to stop hiding how weird i was because no matter how I tried, it slipped out at the seams and people always noticed
when i was 19 i gave up on everything, i didn’t mean to this time it just happened
i gave up because i realized that deep down where it was invisible, a part of me still flinched at insults, needed help, longed for people who left, and wanted to be understood.
i have now gathered myself back together into a semblance of what i was
and still i struggle with the paradox of having destroyed myself so the world couldn’t destroy me
