I’m Not The Kind Of Girl That Talks About Her Feelings

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I never tell anyone how I’m feeling. I suffer in silence.

When I’m out with my friends, I don’t want to sour the mood by bringing up all of the problems in my life. I would rather enjoy the moment. Laugh along with them. Listen to their stories. Have a fun time.

Because when I’m out with them, it’s the only time when my problems don’t seem to matter. When I’ve forgotten about all of the reasons behind my worries. When I finally feel at peace, even if it’s only for an hour or two.

I’m not upset until I get home again, when I’m alone again. I know that I could reach out to those same friends, shoot them a text or even make a phone call and they’d be happy to listen to me, to help me through my struggles. But I don’t want to bother them. I don’t want to admit that I can’t last a week without crying.

I’m supposed to be the fun friend. The girl that doesn’t let anything get to her. The girl that sets an example for the rest of them.

I’m worried that if I let them see my darkness, they’ll look at me differently. Like I’m broken and need to be fixed. Like I’m not the same girl they always thought I was.

Besides, if I never tell anyone how I’m feeling, I can keep pretending that my emotions aren’t real. I can keep stuffing them deeper and deeper into my chest. Avoiding them.

Honestly, I don’t see how talking about them is going to help me. Revealing I’m sad isn’t going to make me less sad. Admitting I’m lost isn’t going to make me feel like any less of a screw up.

So, really, what’s the point?

It’s not like I’m dying for a release, for someone to spill my secrets to.

I don’t want to talk about my feelings, because I’m embarrassed of them. I feel stupid for loving someone that isn’t interested in my affection. For hating someone that shouldn’t be a blip on my radar. For all the jealousy and guilt and bitterness stored inside of my heart.

I don’t want to explain my feelings, analyze my feelings, deal with my feelings. I just want those feelings to go away.

Except, that’s not the way that it works. Bottling everything up will only lead to an explosion. It will isolate me, turn me insane.

I’ve never been the kind of girl that talks about her feelings, but I know that needs to change. I know that I can’t keep living like this.

I know I have to stop hiding from the truth. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Holly is the author of Severe(d): A Creepy Poetry Collection.

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