Scars on the Inside

I've never been bullied and I've never been physically or sexually abused. If you hear my story, you would say I have no reason to be depressed and maybe you'd be right. But this is my pain. These are my tears. And you have no right to discredit my feelings. This is what makes my heart bleed. I've always felt things more than other people. I've taken words the wrong way; I've been hyper senstive to how others treat me. But no one has ever hurt me more than I hurt myself. The thoughts that replay in my mind are negative, defeatist, just plain ugly. These are words that I would never utter to even my worst enemy. They play on an endless loop. Over and over again until they bring me into the darkness place, the deepest hell. It's so hard to live on those days. It's so hard to go about my daily life pretending my soul isn't completely fractured. I cry when I am finally alone because it's the only way to release the toxins inside. And for the night, sometimes my heart settles and the next day is usually better. But it's not long before I have another episode and I start at my skin wishing it could feel the same pain I feel in my bones. This body doesn't understand my torment and how I wish I could see the scars on the outside rather than hide the scars on the inside. 

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