I’m always tired. No matter how much sleep I get, I want more. I don’t want to leave the house. I don’t even want to leave my bed. I want to pull the covers up to my chin and sink into my pillow.
When people reach out to me — people that I want around me, people that I love more than life itself — I ignore them. I text them one-word answers. I turn down their offers to go out.
It’s not that I don’t want to see them. I do. I just don’t want to bother them. I don’t want to disappoint them.
I know that, when they text me to hang out, they expect to see someone with a wide smile and wild stories. Not someone that’s struggling.
I’m scared to let them see me, because I’m not sure which side of me will come out. The angry side that gets irritated over small things? The sad side that cries over nothingness? The whiny side that complains about every little aspect of life?
Or the okay side that fakes smiles until I actually feel okay for a few minutes?
I don’t want the people I love to see me at my lowest. I don’t want them to worry about me.
Whenever I’m around friends, I feel like I’m disappointing them, because I’m not laughing hard enough at their jokes. Because I’m being too quiet. Because I’m racking my brain for an excuse to leave early. Because I’m not being myself.