random thoughts.

I’ll admit it. It’s been a rough couple of years for me. As for the people who know of my story , I know what they’re all thinking after they’ve heard it, how sad.
Every time I explain the moments that bit at my soul, it would be ripped off viciously again.
Again. And again. And again.
Feeling like I was cursed to relive those moments for the rest of my life because there is always going to be someone who will not know. Who will ask. Who will say, “I want to know more about you.” Who will not have anything to say after other than I’m sorry.
The one thing I noticed was that people would take my words and choose the ones they believed were the most depressing. As if I was a non-fictional essay novel with its pages open for the world to dissect.
While I do not mind anyone who’s heard my story to do this, no one has picked the one I thought was sad.
“No one ever taught me.”

Now sure some people might say it in complete confidence, as of way to show that they were a strong individual. That they didn’t always have to depend on someone.
Sure, I’d try to play it off with a big cheeky smile when I was fifteen and all of my friends thought it was so cool that I knew everything. How smart and independent I was.
I didn’t have choice.