I tend to care for others before caring to myself, and it’s been so long since I’ve done it that I think I’ve forgotten how. I haven’t put my own self first in far too long, this much I know is true, but family comes first, they’re all I have to keep me alive and motivate me to keep fighting for life.
I’m struggling now to figure out what I should already know, so bare with me as I progress, for sometimes I’m not around. I’m not always reliable, not that I won’t try, but my body gets the best of me, chronic pain keeps me bogged down. My mind, it tends to follow when I’m overwhelmed with pain, so then depressions creeps back in and takes me prisoner again.
I’ll disappear for weeks and months, sometimes it turns to years, but seldom am I ever asked how I’m doing or feeling. Why reach out to others, if they don’t think of you? I think about them often and yet I never hear a word. If you care, as you say, and you think of me as well, then why is it you can’t take time to ask me about myself?
Is it because I’m some small reminder of a past you pretend you never led? Or is it that you can’t be bothered to comfort someone when you can’t understand the pain they’re in, that it’s easier to pretend there’s not people always suffering? Well it’s my life, so forget me or not, I’m stuck living a life you could never handle.