why can’t anyone give me love? compassion? unconditional support? Why can’t anyone see me where I am and give me empathy? tell me I’ve been given a raw deal? Tell me that it stinks what’s happened and still happening to me? Tell me they will hear me, will listen and understand where I am, and how I’m trapped. And how I desperately want out. How I want it to change. How I am tired of not having anything left for me, nothing left to heal myself at the end of the day, but I’m supposed to wake up and give everything to everyone everyday like I’m not spent, not torn so raw I cannot stop bleeding. But you and you and you keep pulling on me, pulling me down, ripping me into more pieces, using me up.
I am nothing but a shell, a husk. I am empty inside and bloody, and am already dead, except for you I have to keep getting up, keep giving more, hiding my wounds, asking for nought, pleasing you at your convenience. And when you are gone, I collapse again. Never enough time to heal, still ripped to shreds, no one inside anymore except what you demand, what you expect, what I cannot ever stop doing. Making you believe I have ever ending strength and will never tire and will never need any help to heal, to get filled up again, to be alive again and give love without damage to myself.
But you won’t even listen when I tell you how empty I am, how torn and beaten my body is. How I need help to heal. How hoping for it to be healed is not enough. How I need time, how I need to be more than a giver. How I need to give to myself, but never can, because its all used up for you, and you and you and you. And you just won’t quit taking, and you won’t ever give.
So, I’ll do what you want. What I’ve always done. I’ll pretend I am full of energy, full of life, and devote all of it to you. And I’ll wear myself out, and be torn to bits, fall to the ground and wait til I stop bleeding. Then I’ll put on my mask, and pretend I have more to give, devote only to you, ask nothing for myself, be invisible but serve you always in the background. And I’ll do it all again, day after day, until I can no longer rise, until I am useless, until I can no longer pretend, no longer wear the mask, and you will have to see how my wounds and how my needs have never been met, how I have never been cared for, allowed to heal. And then it will be too late.