Stop Looking At Me Schwan

For the first time in my life, I don’t want to be seen.

Me.  The girl who was born with an insatiable need to be heard wishes desperately that she could just disappear.

I long for sleep.  I want to crawl into a room and close the door and shut the blinds and finally lose myself to the darkness that is stalking me.  Until it’s gone.  Until everything is better.  Fixed.  Done.

For fleeting moments I want to reach out – to connect.  I search pathetically for a life source that I can tap into for support, hoping I can sustain myself through someone else’s strength.

Except I can’t.  They can’t.  They’ve heard the story before and it’s not changing.  Their helplessness crushes me.  Just as soon as I extend my hand, I recoil in horror at my own neediness.

I don’t want to be held or consoled.  I want to wander off into the abyss and know that someone else is taking my place in the world, picking up the pieces I left behind.

I need so badly to cry.  To scream.  To quit.  To heave this weight off my chest and run away.  I need to disappoint you all so that you never expect anything from me again.

I can’t stand you looking at me, watching me, wondering what is wrong with me now.  I hate your desire to make it better, because it keeps me here.  Your concern blocks my escape routes like an immovable stone.

Stop being sorry.  I don’t want your sorrow added to my own.  I can see the disappointment and frustration in your eyes.  Your patience is fading and I know.

You can’t help.  Your suggestions and quick fixes and talking and patience cannot touch the darkness.  You can’t fix me.  I hate that your efforts are futile.  It reminds me how lost I am.

Please, if you cannot save me, look away and let me fall.

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