To the Boy Who Wants to Get to Know Me
If there is one thing I’m really good at, it’s blending in. I walk slowly and speak quietly. I avoid eye contact and sit between strangers so as to never engage in a conversation. I know I hide from the world very well. So I’m not sure how you keep seeing me through the woods I call my insecurities.
I hide in the corner for a reason. Although I am not ashamed of my illness, the world is ashamed of me. My aim is to hide my illness from you because I don’t think you could deal with all the ups and downs my bipolar brings. Perhaps you haven’t read my blog. It will show you the real me. The me I cannot express when I stand in front of you.
You don’t know my name, and you shouldn’t. My emotions are a raging storm that act like a dormant volcano. One day there is nothing and the next day everything is destroyed.
How do I tell you I have bipolar? That my depression leaves me crying naked on the floor. The darkness comes creeping in and takes a hold of my mind. It refuses to let me sleep and is jealous of all my friends. It isolates and weakens me. Trust me when I say, you don’t want to know my name. Because when the darkness comes I will become a burden to your spirit, using your light to hide my darkness, using your voice because I have lost mine.
I am afraid to get too close to you because of what I do to everyone I love. My hands are ice cold from years of wiping away my own tears. I do not know if I have the capacity to love you because I struggle to love myself on most days. I look in the mirror and see a shadow. So I cannot understand when you say I am beautiful.
I have asked you on many occasions to not fall in love with me, as the elements of my soul cannot be seen in the frown lines of my face. I am afraid because most people do not know how to love someone like me, someone who’s moods are unpredictable and often volatile. I am afraid of being loved — because I don’t think I know how to love.
The Girl Who Is Afraid To Be Loved