The look was more scary than I could ever imagined.

He found out, he found out and it's out on the table. I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to even think about it. I want to go back where you didn't view me like a stranger in your household.

I know I shouldn't have done it, but I did. I did it because these thoughts get so loud the only way to shut them up is by cutting myself. Then right after I feel guilty and ashamed. It's not something I thought I would ever do, but everything is so overwhelming I didn't know any other choice that could free me from my mind and silence it for just a few minutes.

I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to worry about me, you have enough on your plate you don't need to worry about one more thing.

My emotions are mine, not yours, you don't have to fix me, it's impossible, I tried.

Look, just please move on, I don't know how to tell you what I'm dealing with, and telling me to "just tell me" is not helping.

Expressing myself verbally is something I cannot do, writing is my outlet and you just have to deal with it. You want to know what's going on in my head? Read the piles of notebooks I have under my bed. I love you, but this is how I cope, writing is my one outlet where I can get everything out. Talking isn't something I'm very good at when it comes to this, it's like my brain shuts off and can't open back up.

If you want to really know me, read. Read all of it if you have to. But forcing me to communicate verbally is going to get us nowhere.

-R