To the Ones Who Look But Never See
I’m not asking you to fix me. I’m asking you to listen.
I’m not asking you to fix me. I’m asking you to listen.
There is so much more to the story than what the label conveys.
I took on roles not meant for a child, like parenting my parents, calming everyone, and sacrificing myself on the altar of appeasement.
A few years ago, my uncle took his own life.
I shrunk to be digestible, but I’m not meant to be consumed.
When I was growing up, there was no word for what I was experiencing.
"I have to admit what I never wanted to admit. I am addicted."
I probably won’t say, “I’m in a mental health crisis right now” with some laid-out spreadsheet of exactly what I need.
Today, as a Black immigrant in the United States, these words hold an even deeper meaning.
What about one of the most important relationships we’ll ever engage in? Our relationship with ourselves.
If I let it, anxiety will leech all of the color out of me one lie at a time until I can barely stand to be in my own mind.
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