Hurt vs. Mad

I'm not mad.

I'm hurt.

Please understand that.

You people look at me like I don't have feelings, like I'm invincible, like cut me and I won't bleed. But I do. I bleed and I cry myself to sleep because you all think I'm so strong when I am truly not. I'm scared and worried and fragile. They laugh and make jokes about me being a whore or a slut, about how I don't deserve respect. And I laugh with them because at least then, they stay around.

If I tell you that you've hurt me, you'd roll your eyes.

You think it's funny.

But I don't.

I lack friends because I'm too afraid of letting them in. It is my fault you don't see my pain. It's because I don't let you. But I am tired of it. So tired, friend. I'm tired of smiling so the tears don't fall, laughing so no one knows it hurts. Please know, I'm not mad.

I'm just tired of being hurt.