imposter

My imposter syndrome is insane.



I can never talk about my own feelings, or mental wellbeing, or anything negative because there is always someone who has it worser than I.

All my life I've let other people talk about their own mental issues over mine. Why do you think I've upkept this blog for six years? Because no one listens. No onw will listen-

Not even the ones who think they are listening. Who think they're so good at being friends. Those who thank me for being a good friend and always been there for them.

But they never give back.

Or well.

I never give them anything of myself.

No one cares about someone without scars, someone who hasn't gone to therapy, someone who hasn't been sexually assaulted and been open about it.

It's not tasty enough.

The truth? Yes it hurts me.

But I've been doing this for six years, always kept every damn secret to myself, always found alternative ways of not killing myself, always been on my damn own.

I don't think I'll ever learn to be open. No one has given me a chance.

And I hurt.