Brick wall, waterfall...

...You know the rest of the chant, and I'm positive you just read the title to the tune of it. I did as I was typing it, so there's no shame in it!

Anyway, that title is almost completely irrelevant to the future content of this post. Note: I said "almost". No, I'm not going to talk about a brick wall or a waterfall, but rather the 50 foot walls I have guarding my secrets, feelings, and thoughts.

Like most people, I have a past that I'm not proud of. I have self-inflicted battle wounds, both metaphorically and literally. There are things in my story that I've never told anyone, and some things I've trusted one or two people with. I have walls put up around my past, secrets, and heart for one reason and one reason alone: I don't want to be hurt. Everyone fears pain to some extent; it's a completely normal part of being what some would call "human". Our brains are wired to, sometimes against our better judgement, tell us to stay away from the pain. Physical, mental, and emotional pain sets off an alarm in our minds. We know when we've been hurt before anyone else does, obviously, because WE are the ones being hurt.

It's taken me years to find friends that I felt I could confide in, and trust that they would keep anything I told them to themselves. There are still things that they don't know about me, and one friend knows more than the others, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I've struggled with things, suicidal thoughts and self harm in particular, since roughly the 5th grade. This isn't something I normally talk about with anyone, and I don't want to go into too much detail in this post. Those things are stories for a different time.

Anyway, back to the point of this post: my walls. I keep things like that guarded because I don't want anyone to think any differently of me. First impressions are SO important, and every impression after that is just as important. I would hate to tell someone that I have purposely take a knife to my thigh, and have to watch them stare at me in horror and then walk away as quickly as their legs can carry them. I would feel horrible about making someone else worry about my safety by telling them that I felt alone, unloved, and like I would be better off if I could leave this world behind. So I keep these things locked up tight inside.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I'm numb. I've finally realized why. I cannot, or rather my mind won't let me, feel emotions because I'm burnt out. I've had these thoughts, urges, and feelings inside so long without blowing up into little pieces, that they've just killed me. I haven't seriously cried in so long that I can't remember the last time I did. I've been able to put on this happy facade, but I'm tired. I'm so tired. I feel stuck in a rut that I can't get out of.

I don't remember it ever being this bad. Well, I do, actually. The second semester of Sophomore year was extremely rough.

But that's beside the point. Actually, I don't quite remember the point of this post now. It started out talking about walls, and it's ended with me revealing the craziness that is part of my life. Now do you see why I want out of my head so badly?