Have you ever tried to explain your pain to someone? Trying to come up with the perfect set of words that will illuminate your feelings. Trying desperately to make another person feel what you feel, not out of spite but as to make them understand? I have tried this a number of times but have yet to feel like I’ve gotten my point across. I have yet to feel as if anyone I’ve told really understands my meanings. Trying to explain why I’m depressed whilst also trying to explain my anxiety, and OCD, and PTSD, and insecurity, and self doubt, and self hate, and my inability to trust, my anger, my pain, and my whole childhood in a way that doesn’t make people pity me but enough that they get the gist. I try to describe the monsters within my mind but as I do I see people's faces change. I see their concern, their confusion, their fear. I see that they have no idea what it is I’m talking about and are questioning whether or not I'm saying. I see them connect the dots of all the small glimpses of my life I've let slip. And as I see this unfold onto their faces, it becomes clear to me that I shouldn’t have spoken out. I shouldn’t have shown the truth. I shouldn’t have ruined the illusion I had been putting on for so long. I see that there is no possible way for these people to ever fully grasp what it is I’m telling them, what it is I feel. There is no way for someone to fully connect with me over these traumas in the way I want to. In the way I feel I need. I just need someone to understand. To feel exactly how I feel and understand. I just need someone to live out my whole life until now and understand exactly how I feel. But as soon as I start to tell them they change. They start to pity me. They start to see me differently. They start to see the small and weak person I am, the person I’ve been trying to hide, the person I hate, the person I don’t want to be. So I stop telling them. I stop midway and find a way to add in a “but it’s over now so it’s fine” or a “but I'm exaggerating” or a “but whatever”. I cut my pain up into tiny stories with dead endings in an attempt to get people to understand me without pitying me. Without seeing how weak I am. Without actually opening up. I need someone who fully understands me to help me open up. I can’t do it myself. I can’t open up to someone in order for them to help me, I can’t do that. I know it’s probably supposed to do and what I have to do but I can’t. I can’t open up. I can’t be strong. I can’t seem to fully explain how I feel without adding in a quick retort of how the pain I just shared doesn’t affect me. I can’t help but lie. I can’t help it. I can’t change it. I can’t change it without help. I need some to help me change. I need someone to help me open up. I need someone to understand me. I need someone to know how I feel. I need someone. But there is no one. I see no one. I see no eyes that have lived the same life as me. I see no souls that have felt the same pain. I see no one who can truly understand. I see nobody. So I resort back to trying to explain my pain with small stories with dead endings and quick retorts of how I no longer feel the pain that fills my words. I resort back to trying to find that one person who will understand. That one person who will help take all my pain away. If only they were to hear my words. If only they were to understand. So I stand here trying to come up with the perfect arrangements of words to explain my feelings. To make someone feel my pain.