To all the times people asked me, whether I was fine or if I was okay, all my responses were a lie. I am never okay, I never was, and I never will be.
Regretfully, I evolved to be someone who sacrificed a ton of things just to go back to the same old me. Becoming selfless was always challenging. To put others before you, help them, and give advice even when you need it too.
As a result, I’ve mastered the art of self-comfort. To wipe my tears, gather my thoughts, and cry myself to sleep. It wasn’t easy. It never was. But, I dealt with it myself. I had to because I’m on my own.
“You fixed a lot of people, but you can’t seem to fix yourself.”
It’s ironic because I have always comforted others with the words I wish to hear. I would be there for them because I know what it’s like when you want to give up and there is no one by your side.
I’ve been there and I know how vulnerable you can be. You’ll want to cry, scream, and blame everyone for the things that are happening. You’ll yearn for someone’s presence and solace. And, that’s why I exist.
Consequently, I’m starting to hate how selfless I became.
How could I choose to help others when I can’t even help myself?
What is the point of saving others if you don’t feel happy yourself?
Aren’t you killing yourself by pretending like you are okay?
I gain comfort from knowing that I’m helping others. It delighted me once I realized that by being there for others, they’ll be better because someone is by their side. They know that they’re not alone anymore and that they can rely on me.
Honestly, it hurts but it’s okay. I can manage. I find too much comfort in my mental illness to the point that I’m considerably unable to heal from it. It’s like a tunnel with no end. I keep going back to the same old me. But, I’ll always look after you and hope that you won’t end up like me.
