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Why do I bother helping people? What does it ever accomplish? When has it ever benefited me? It hurts to sit there and wonder. It pains me to feel like my help is being rejected. I sit here staring at a blank page. Feeling like I need to let it all out. Scream at the top of my lungs. Remembering what you’ve said. My head spins as I start to get dizzy; my insides twisting and curling in disgust. A see a knife nearly out of reach and look out a window dripping with tears for the clouds above. I run the knife against my skin my hand crashing into the glass. I try to escape toward the freedom I seek. Just beyond those clouds as I wish to be released. I hope and pray this pain will subside, but once again you remind me. That I am merely human and the world is not perfect. People hurt others; they cry and bleed. Beg and plea. Behind this glass I stay grounded to a world I do not wish to live in. A burning sensation stings my chest and I realize now what I have done. I have cried. I have bled. I am what I am. I feel this way and understand now why I continued to sit here and wait. Why I bother trying to help. Why I put myself through these tests. It’s so that nobody else has to feel the pain I feel. It’s so they don’t accuse me of not caring. It’s so they see a different side of me. The better side of me, the one hiding the same feelings they hide. The power of love which I treasure most is the hand I use to reach out to others. It may be mean, it may hurt you. I may just be putting salt in that wound, but I will be here to face the truth. To hope you see through the words and illusions. The real me; human just like you.

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