The most goddamn difficult thing for humankind to ask for, apparently. The few who are blessed, are given copious amounts of it. Whether vocally inquiring of it, or otherwise people flourish it upon them.

I am not one of those lucky few.

Rather, I’m a drastic contrast; a polar opposite.

Never have I been given the kind of help I need. Or rather, very, very rarely. Even when I was little, and I’d cry, it was found more obnoxious than anything else, especially by my peers. And my mom tried, oh did she try. For no, I wouldn’t be liked by everyone. But she never came to fully understand that I cannot process what’s going on with me vocally. Not well, not deeply. Because there are times where I just don’t know what I’m feeling.

Does that make me stunted in development?

No. I don’t actually believe so. Rather, I find emotions to be so beautifully, tragically, complex in their intricate behavior and webbing, that one term for each “emotion” cannot possibly harness the entirety of them.

So I’m left to suffer in silence. I learned how to be strong after my dad passes away. Yes, it took time. Quite a bit of it, a few years to be precise to gain a grasp of myself and learn to steel my own spine.

Still. While I can stand on my own, and piece myself back together time and time again…

I wish, like any other human, that someone would offer me their hand without saying anything. Someone always has to say something. And while for most people, this seems to help, or they pretend it does…for me, it doesn’t. It makes things substantially worse.

For once I’d just like assurance that I don’t have to stand alone, again. But no. Everyone has to interject a word or several.

Anything from “it’s okay, you’re *such and such*, and you’ll be successful!” to “You could have it so much worse.” Even my brother has been making it unbearable, especially with this generic response he has of “yeah, sounds ’bout right”. No. That doesn’t help. None of it fucking helps.

I’m drowning within myself. I’m losing steam to stand back up again. Mostly, I realize, because I’m trapped among obligation. I’m obligated to be in school. I hate it. I’m obligated to be my mother’s good girl. I hate it. I’m obligated to be everyone’s goddamn fucking therapist.

I. Fucking. Hate. It. All.

It’s why I’m turning bitter. Why I’m becoming callous. Why I’m listening less and willing to abandon everything, without a penny to my name, if it means I even have a slim hope at finding peace somewhere else.

I’m willing to give up who I am now. Just to find out if the me I am somewhere inside is capable of being at peace.

It would break so many hearts. But for how long, I’m left to wonder… My mother would be devastated, if I up and left without a word of where it is I’m heading. My best friends? Well, it’s a good question.

I’d follow all of them, and bring them with me to a better place.

Turns out not a single one of them would do the same. At most, my absolute best friend would give me shelter as I tried to find my bearings.

Not even the man I thought, thought the world of me…not even he I’m so sure of anymore. He’s grown distant. And it stings.

Funny thing is I don’t want those pieces of my heart back. I’ll regenerate new ones to place into the complex mosaic that identifies me as myself.

It’s come to the point I want someone to choose me. For once. Someone to pick me over everything, and everyone. Because I am constantly choosing everyone else over myself. Not always the right ones, but I’m trying. Damnit I’m trying to pick the good ones first.

But who are ‘they‘, anymore?

I want to be someone’s priority. I want them to see me as the young woman I am, completely imperfect and by some miracle or another, capable to stand up again after having my knees shattered from underneath me.

Being an Aquarius, we are incapable to demand something so selfish vocally. We will give, and give, and give. We would rather the world be happy, than find happiness on our own. Of the zodiac, it is one of the most self-destructive for that very reason. We cannot ask for help, not for the deeply personal reasons which inflict turmoil deep down inside.

We choose to save the world. And in doing so, we kill ourselves. Slowly. Figuratively. Regardless, we never choose ourselves.

I can now see why my grandmother, though callous and nearly psychopathic, never remarried.

Giving everything, only for it to backlash us viciously…

No. We’re not an emotionally open sign. We can’t process emotions so simply. They’re complex. Nothing black and white about them.

So when we hurt, we hurt. It’s a reason why most of my Aquarius friends (whether they know it or not), have remained void of delving into relationships. It’s hard. It hurts. We’re expected to behave a certain way, in which we cannot cohesively fathom, nor become.

Aquarius…you beautiful anomaly.

We can stand on our own. We always have.

But dammit all, if it wouldn’t be nice just once for someone to hold out their hand for us. We don’t always need words.

We’re just a little tired of being so, so lonely.


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