I’m writing to you, but I don’t expect you to read this. I’m writing to you, but I don’t expect you to understand. I’m writing to you because I need to. I’m writing to convince myself that I’m not abnormal, but mostly to give myself some relief.
I want you to know how much I love you and how important you are in my life—and you know that. I want you to know that I’m blessed in life and that I’m happy with what it has to offer. I’m in love, and you’re so amazing. But there are some things I won’t tell you.
I won’t tell you that I’m sad, that I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel when it comes to rediscovering my own joy in life. I won’t tell you that I’m sad because you don’t need my worries—you need my energy, my presence, my love. I won’t tell you this, because my weakness is something I face alone; I deal with it when everyone else is asleep and insomnia robs me of my precious sleep. I deal with it through crying spells during nap time or in little bursts in the shower.
This battle between me and myself belongs only to me. It’s not that I don’t like to share, but I’m convinced that you deserve only the best of me—the most beautiful part of me to offer. All this sadness doesn’t belong to you; it’s not your burden to carry.
Why do I keep you away from this dark side? Why will you never know that I’m sad? Simply because I want to show you that, despite everything, happiness is everywhere. Despite everything, life is good. Thousands of little things happen that make you want to smile, to live every second with boundless intensity and energy. All you need to know is that I’m happy.
No, I don’t need other people’s judgment.
No, I don’t need pity.
No, I’m not in denial.
But I’ll never tell you that I’m sad—not now.
Smile at me, love me, hold me close, and forget all about it.
A tribute to all those who suffer in silence.
You are not alone.