When I was in high school, I became the biggest liar I knew. Everyone would ask, "How are you doing?" and I'd, naturally, say, fine.
But I wasn't fine. I was far from it. I was hoping someone would see past that lie of "I'm fine" and demand to know what was wrong. I wanted someone to see the hurt and crying girl inside me, begging for someone to help. Just once, I wanted someone to scrunch their face up in scrutiny, realize that something was off, and confront me about it.
But I couldn't tell the truth. If I did that, everything would change. I would cease to be me, and instead become "The Girl Whose Mom Has Cancer." Which would naturally lead to all the worry being dumped on my mother, and not me. More importantly, I hated that instant sympathy people would dump on me if I told them. So I didn't. I kept quiet because the last thing I wanted was unneeded sympathy. I wanted action. I wanted people to come over and see me, just me. I needed someone to pay attention to my silent pleas for help. I wanted someone to see that I was lying, that I wasn't fine. That I was hurting, that I just wanted to cry it out. Isn't that what friends are supposed to do? See past the lies and take action? But I'd gotten so good at lying, no one thought I was lying. After lying for around five years, I think it's time to come clean, don't you?
I am hurting. I have been for almost five years. Ever since my mom was first diagnosed, I started this lying. I had to. My social standing in high school would have been ruined beyond repair if I had even mentioned this. I was trying to convince myself that this was just a small bump in my road of life, and that in a few months time, my life would get back to normal. But it didn't. Things spiraled out of control, so much so that I didn't want to take control of my own life. I mean, what's the point of having this illusion of control? Why have an illusion when you can just let the guy in charge drive? I could take the passenger seat and I wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. Simple as that, right? Wrong.
This track of thinking hit me at the worst possible time in life: college, when you're supposed to take control of your life. When you make big decisions that affect the rest of your life...and I have no idea what I want beyond college. I didn't even think about colleges until it was time to apply to them. I kept waiting for my life to get back to the normal that was robbed from me. I want to get married, but I'm stubbornly waiting for my Prince Charming to ride up on his stallion when I know I've got to go into the woods and guide that dumb idiot to me. But I don't want to. Because I'm scared if I do, anything that makes me happy is just gonna get ripped from my hands and then I'll be left with next to nothing and told, "Here's the pieces, now make the Mona Lisa from two pieces of string and a rock. And while you're at it, build the Taj Mahal and the Great Wall of China from these as well. And those are all thing things you get. Oh, and do it all in a week, no wait, one day. You can do that, right? Of course you can! You're tough. You come from tough stock, so you can do hard things." While I'm probably overexaggerating, this is how it feels. I feel like I have to make all these decisions right now, while I'm dealing with emotional issues and my own social shortcomings that are starting to rear their ugly head.
Trouble is, by thinking I could go through this on my own, I didn't ever think to ask for help. And now, I don't want to. It's stupid really how I'm scared to ask someone something as simple as hanging out. But it doesn't matter. That same mentality of "just do it on your own" is now messing with my life. And I don't know what to do.
I'm tired of being a liar, but I'm also scared to find out who I am. I'm worried that the perky, happy me is just trying to compensate for the scared, depressed me. That who I am is a lie. Because if it is, then I become nothing. I don't want to be a lie. I want to be me, and be me honestly.
I'm asking for help. Because I can't do this on my own anymore. Get me out of my room. I hate it there. I do nothing, and I hate doing that. But I don't know what else to do, so I do nothing because nothing is safe. Get me out of loneliness. Because I've locked myself in a box, and I need someone to remind me I have the key. Just hold my hand and help me out of this. Once I get to place I can do it on my own, I'll be okay. But right now, please, just help me take the first few steps. I know many of you are far away, and can't really do anything except pray and give me words of support. Please do these. Don't stop. I need every one I can get. I need a little reminder every now and then that I am awesome, that I am doing okay given what's happened.
Now I want sympathy. I want a pity party, featuring me! And get one of those cakes that s girl pops out of. No, never mind. That ruins the cake. Just bring cake and ice cream and let me cry my make-up off. I need attention. I've been denying myself those moments for five years now, and they're all accumilating in the worst possible way. Don't worry, I haven't thought super dark things yet, but I have been lonely and staring blankly at a computer screen for hours on end because I can't think of anything better to do. Get me off my sorry butt and help me be the happy person that I'd like to think I am. I'm like a plant. I just need some attention, and I will thrive.
If I can get past this, I'll be okay. And I mean that.
