I wasn't going to tune out humanity, look away instead of meeting eager "helping" eyes that wanted my smile. But I did. I wasn't going to ignore your text, let the numbness turn to apathy, fling away your attempt to reach me. But I did. I wasn't going to stare out my window and picture the abyss, the end of all and worry, worry, worry through the lining of my stomach about the fates I cannot change. But I did.
I wasn't going to pick at the skin until my fingers bled, stay up just to zone out so that my mind was fried and unprepared for the days ahead. But I did. And I do. I fail me continually and sometimes I fail you. I wasn't going to say all this, write it publicly for the world to feel me bleed. But I did.
Because when my head wakes up, when the darkness passes from behind my eyes, you might need a reminder that I once felt as you do. I feel it now: too tired to get up and move around, too weak to keep from stuffing my mouth, the cycle of falling and failing too much for my thin skin, shuts me down until I can deal again.
You might need to remember that I pushed the chocolate away, picked my child up, prayed, walked and talked and laughed even when all I wanted to do was hide. My head told me I couldn't, but it lied. I did the things to pretend to live, and it eventually became real. It is a battle I'd rather not fight, an insane I wish would heal. It won't. I'll tell myself I should never have lived, feeling this way. But I did. And I do.
I do it for me, for them, for you.