And you told me that, I could talk to you about anything.

And I sit here, not knowing where to begin. Because I've let so many things simply happen. I tried telling you there and then, but I just couldn't allow myself to let my soul bare.

There are a hundred million things running through my head, and I lie awake every night in bed, begging my mind to just shut off, because I have a new day to begin, new things to work on.

I want to move forward, I hate being rooted to this spot. Even though here you are, hanging down a rope, giving me hope, something to hold on to as I hang precariously from the edge, but my mind says it's too late for me to accept any help.
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"Why?" You might ask, "why won't I just tell them, why won't I just let it all out and be done, be free of all this burden?" Let me try to answer that.

You see, I find myself unable to explain to others why something that they did have me bothered, because I have always learned to accept people as they are, yet somehow that courtesy have never been extended to me. And that always makes feel like maybe, I'm unworthy.

And it's quite possible that I truly am. Maybe, I don't deserve common courtesy, but some things are just not possible for me to explain; in simple words - they don't have meaning.

So here I am again, making excuses on your behalf, telling myself that in the end, it was probably my own fault.

And I'll leave that text of yours unanswered, probably send a bunch of random texts to cover that one up; because here too, I don't want to hurt your feelings, I guess maybe that's just how, people like me, deal with things.