Stop.

Stop!

Just stop.

You don’t know what it’s like

when your entire body is screaming in pain—

not physical pain,

but something deeper, louder.

It trembles under fear and sadness.

My mind is filled with tears and screaming,

and I can’t stop it.

I try.

But it doesn’t stop.

It aches like nothing else.

Tears constantly threaten to pour out.

I could be working, cleaning, talking—

and it just happens.

It can’t be controlled.

It’s exhausting pretending to be happy.

It’s exhausting making everyone else happy

when I am quietly dying inside.

It’s exhausting to get through half a day,

let alone a whole one.

It’s exhausting just to breathe.

You don’t get it.

And you won’t.

Because you don’t know what I’ve been through.

You don’t even try to understand.

You say things like:

“She’s just acting like that.”

“She gets it from being online.”

“She’s on her period.”

“Why can’t you just stop your sh*t?”

“You need to learn to love yourself.”

“Stop behaving this way.”

“You’re so toxic.”

“Can’t talk to someone afraid of everything.”

Just stop.

If I could stop being this way, I would.

But this isn’t a switch.

This is 24/7.

This is my life.

And I hide it—

for other people’s comfort.

But inside, I’m dying 1000 times

while I smile and laugh,

because the truth of my pain

is just too much for anyone to handle.

Too dramatic, right?

Why bother explaining,

when all you’ll say is:

“Is that it? You’ll be okay.”

“Get over it.”

“Suck it up, buttercup.”

Why share my feelings

when you’ll say,

“I know how you feel, but you need to get over it,”

and then talk about yourself,

like I never spoke at all?

If I knew how to love myself,

I would.

But I don’t.

Because I was never taught.