I have a message for the world, and everyone needs to know.


1. My Message.


I can’t afford to take the time and think about other people’s pain when I have my own pain to deal with. And yet I do. I can’t help but feel the need to help everyone in their darkest times. I need to know that everyone is ok before I can help myself. I feel the need to make them feel better even when I’m crumbling inside. Even when I can physically feel myself falling apart from the inside out. I can’t even begin to wish this pain upon people, no matter how much I want to have someone to relate to. People think I don’t need help. Mental disorders have become a competition. If you don’t have something worse than someone else, it doesn’t mean there is not a problem. My mom doesn’t seem to believe there is even a problem with me. My brain is exploding, over thinking, making things worse, devouring me. I can’t keep living like this, and yet I can’t let go. I can’t handle everything going on. I can’t handle the judgment. I can’t handle the criticism. I can’t handle the pain. When I have been called fat I have made an attempt at trying to fix that problem, trying to eat less, or better, only to be called anorexic. I can’t get better if the pain never stops coming. If I don’t have a problem as severe as another person’s, it shouldn’t matter, I should be able to be treated. I don’t want to eat anymore. I don’t want to feel. I can’t help it. I keep the tears down every moment, because I know that as soon as I let my guard down, or I stop holding things back, everything will come pouring out. I can’t handle that either. I can’t handle this constant feeling of judgment, of not living up to expectations, of not looking right, of not being as significant...I can’t handle this constant feeling of loneliness. I can’t talk to my mom about this stuff, because she only tries to give me dieting plans. But at that very moment I don’t want a dieting plan. I want comfort. I want support. I want to stick to my plan and get support to do that. I was messaged and told about how worthless I was. I don’t want to feel worthless, and yet I did. I know everyone’s answer would be to ignore, to not let it get to me. But the strength I had so long ago isn’t here anymore. I can’t protect myself from that anymore. It just slips through my wounds. If I were to post this anywhere, so many people would say “Same”. No it’s not same. Or at least it shouldn’t be. If it is the same for everyone then that is sad. Just plain sad. Because people are different. Your mind processes pain differently than mine. It should not be “same.” However, your pain does matter. Even though it is different than mine. Even if it is different that the girl on your right, or the boy on your left, the mother in front of you, her kids, and the dad across the room. It is different than yours. But it matters. And if we all have the same feelings then we need to work together to fix this. We can’t keep letting our souls be torn apart by words. We can’t keep building our courage for years only to have it torn down in seconds, by a text, call, post or anything else. So as a society, let’s make a pact, let’s speak up. Let’s change the world as we see it. Let’s make the most common feeling be happiness, not depression. That’s all I have to say.  - K

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