I’m sad.

I say that I don’t want to talk about it. Actually, I do, but I’m afraid of your reaction. I’m afraid that you’ll never see me as an equal again. I’m afraid of the pity in your eyes when you realize how screwed up I am. Now, you can’t imagine the dimension of chaos I’m carrying yet. And I’m, honestly, not sure if you ever will. I hope you don’t. Because that would mean that a part of my madness already went over to you and I want to keep you as unaffected, safe and sound and happy as you are now.

You shouldn’t get an idea of how much the world can destroy a human being without leaving marks on its surface.

You shouldn’t get an idea of the canyon of darkness that can lie behind a single smile.

Your open-hearted view on people shouldn’t be clouded by the knowledge of the amount of atrocity one single human being is capable of.

You should not have to deal with my blue baggage, even when my back almost breaks from carrying it alone.

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