My thoughts darken, my light is going out. “She was always a happy young girl” I hear them say quite often, and I cringe at their words “Am I not allowed to be sad?” “Am I not allowed to be sad?” “I don’t want to pretend anymore”.
But I will pretend for them and suffer in my silence slowly pushing myself until maybe someone notices I am no longer my true self. But who was I to begin with? Of course, if someone calls me out on my behavior I will deny deny deny. Yes, they are the ones with a problem. Not me.
I am fine.
I am fine.
I am fine.
I repeat this over and over again until it begins to feel real.
Perfect.
Mums the word 