In all three years of my life I never figured myself as being so important. My parents, classmates and family alike made it abundantly clear that I was one tiny little piece in a huge huge game with no title or no objective. I wasn't really allowed to express myself or my issues, on how stressed I was that my grades weren't high enough, or I didn't look the way they expected in dresses or fancy clothes. I think that only amplified when my sister got pregnant. Everyone kept a sharp eye on me to make sure I didn't slip up. I couldn't afford to have problems, panic attacks and depressive episodes aside. So, the only logical thing to do was to keep it in and not talk to anyone about it. Because in all honesty, who the hell cares? (I'm thinking about it when I'm typing this.) I was really really good at it, I made sure my grades were in line that way no one will suspect anything, I ate in front of people, I kept up my act well. And broke apart as soon as I got home. Day after day after day. I split my skin apart to let go of all the things I held in to make room for more things. That was easy to do too, too easy.
But life decided to hand me a different slap in the face. The people I loved, the people I would give my life for, started to notice. And once they found out: They cared, they listened. The picked me up when I couldn't find the strength to.
I think that's why I decided to let go of my weapons to hurt myself today. Because without them, I would've fallen apart. People always say to love yourself and heal yourself and don't let people fix you. But sometimes you can't do it on your own, it's too much even for the strongest person to handle.
I cannot reverse what I have done to myself, but that doesn't mean I redeem for a better life. It will be hard, hard not to collect things to start up the process, really fucking hard actually. But I know someone out there wants to protect me, love me and care for me.
And I'll be waiting for that day. No long sleeves worn.