Last week I found out that a friend of mine was cutting herself. I was the first to know, and I was the one who told her other closest friends. They didn't believe me until she admitted it herself, and then of course everyone is all caring and trying to sort it out.
And I cannot help hating them for it.
I cannot help but hate them for all the attention they give her because of her depression, whilst I have been suffering for years.
I cannot help but hate the fact that everyone cares for her, but they have never cared for me in the same way.
I cannot help but hate them for comforting her when she breaks down, but merely shunning me.
I cannot help but hate them for helping her, and leaving me to struggle alone.
I cannot help but hate them for only caring about the physical scars, and never my emotional ones
I cannot help but hate them for crying over her injuries, whilst overlooking mine
I cannot help but hate them for all of this, despite how unfair it may be.
I can barely manage to do my school work anymore, I can hardly distinguish from reality and fantasy. Every day is a struggle for me, and every time I walk everything goes fuzzy, because I am not in good health. I am not the same person I was a year ago, and yet nobody has noticed. And nobody seems to care until I force them to.