A Golden Secret
I've gotten really good at crying silently recently.
To hide my pain away form the people who care about me.
Even in my home, with my family, I hide the things that hurt me the most.
They say I'm fine, they think I'm fine.
But they have no idea.
They haven't seen me sitting by car for 20 minutes after I get home every day to cry.
They don't see me crying in the shower, listening to the most gut wrenching songs ever.
They don't know
They don't know
They don't know
And I don't tell them.
I cry out for a savior to come and lift the weight off of me.
But I cover my cries in the soft folds of my blankets every time.
I wish on every ounce of my soul that I had someone to share my pain with.
But when people come along, I just compress it.
It just never felt like anyone really understood my pain.
And so I never told.
I may have given hints, but never the whole story.
Never showed the breakdowns eqch and every night.
The mounds of tissues in my car and by my bed because of the ocean of tears.
The amount of times I had felt so hopeless in the life I had been living for do long.
They just don't know.