So, I opened up to you. I shared my emotional drain. I shared my other person. But you still don’t understand. You still aren’t listening.
I’ll tell you. I’ll show you. Believe me, it’s not that hard to see the struggle I face every day. The struggle that so many of us face. We’re wearing masks, but they’re easy to remove.
I’m made out of glass. So fragile to the touch. Sensitive to loud noise, I could break instantly with a high pitch. I’m drowning in the water around me. It’s like rain constantly falling, and never having an umbrella to protect me. The thunder is so loud, and the lightening is so bright and so intense.
Does this make me special?
Far from it I’m afraid. More like the anti-special. Like the dirt underneath the rock, pretending not to exist, and also waiting and hoping that someday someone will pick up the rock and see me hiding in the shadow.
I just want to be noticed.
My story is important too. I don’t understand why I don’t make the news. Why am I not the story someone wants to write about? I’m sick too. Why am I not special? What will make me special? What will make me a life worth sharing? What will make me a rock?