I didn't mean to get angry.
To scream.
To cry.
To say hurtful words.
But I did.
I just couldn't keep going anymore.
It's all too much.
Has been building up for days.
The stress.
The tears.
The pressure.
And I snapped.
Snapped and hurt even thought I didn't mean to.
I know that it wasn't meant to be something bad.
I know that it is something good.
She only wanted to help.
But it was to much.
Has been to much for to long.
It wasn't anything bad.
Just the slight disorder left in my room after she wanted to help me clean it.
But it was to much.
I couldn't stand the thought that someone else had been in my room while I was gone.
That someone rummaged through my things.
Misplaced them.
Disordered them.
Even if it was just to clean.
To help.
It made me snap.
My room is my safe space.
The only place I can truly and fully be me.
The only place that belongs to me and me only.
The one place that is so wonderfully familiar.
Where all the chaos is orderly for my eyes only.
There everything is just right.
Nowhere else is it like this.
And that made it to much.
Made me snap so hard.
Even more then the fact that the order I created was destroyed.
Something that set me off in its own.
So I got angry.
Days of pressure, of holding up, of bearing it even thought it was just too much.
Too much of everything.
Of talking.
Of fake smiles.
Of pretending to be fine.
Of acting as if I understand what everything is talking about, what everyone wants from me, even thought I don't.
Even though it's all just a confusing mess that causes me headaches.
That makes me go insane.
That makes me want to lie down ne never get up again.
That makes me want to disappear.
Makes me want to die.
And I don't get it.
I don't understand how everyone else can hold up.
Can be fine.
Can understand.
I can't.
Perhaps I will never be able to.
And it's scary.
And hard.
I feel like I can't breath.
And I snapped.
I felt so bad right after.
And now, again, I feel like drowning in guilt for my words.
Even though I already apologized my tears won't stop.
I know.
I'm so close to snapping again.
Or breaking down.
It's all to much.
But no one listens.
Even then I try to speak.
No one ever listens.
And so my words stick in my throat.
Unspoken.
Because even if I speak it doesn't change.
Even if my words are heard no one listens.
Even then I try to say that I can't keep going, everyone just demands that I keep pushing.
Everyone else can do it too, so why can't I?
Even then I say I'm falling apart, that even the last bit of duck tape holding me up is coming off, they just tell me not to be overdramatize.
To stop whining.
To be fine.
And I want to yell.
Yell in every single of their oh so great faces that I can't!
That I'm out of power, that I'm out of strength, that it's to hard, to hard to be awake, to hard to keep going, to hard to be fine, to hard to live.
But no one listens.
So I stay silent.
Bear it.
Swallow it all and suppress it until I can't.
Until the thread snaps.
Until it all explodes.
Until the lava burns someone.
Destroys something.
Perhaps irreparable.
And then the tears don't stop.
And I hate it.
Hate myself so much that I want to take the next knife and stab myself.
Hate myself so much it takes my breath away.
Because I don't want to hurt anyone.
But I can't keep going anymore, I can't stand it anymore.
I snap.
And I hurt.
And I cry.
And scream.
And break apart.
And I want nothing more then to die.
But I know.
They want me to be fine.
To begin the circle anew.
To always be alright.
To always be an adult.
To always be reason even if my heart yells and screams and all I see is the burning in my heart.
Cause the flames eat me.
Even if I just pretend to be fine again.
Bottle everything up again.
Until a new bomb has grown.
Until the next trigger is pulled.
Until I snap again.