Cannot be Saved

My savior could be standing right in front of me. She could be the one to pull me out of the darkness, to dig me out from my sinking grave. He could be the one to help me fix the broken ends and piece me back together. But somehow, I cannot seem to let him/her in.

I have always been the one to put others back together. I was the strong one, the optimistic one, the dependable one. I am the big sister, the "smart friend". Others are supposed to see me as the hero, not as the frail maiden who needs rescuing.

I cannot accept my own weakness, my own dependence. The help of others is something foreign to my very nature. It is not something I know how to accept. She may be my hero offering to rescue my very soul, but I am unable to let him save me.

Tell Me

Why did I tell them? It was foolish, uncalled for, a pointless decision.

I wished for understanding and instead confused myself. I was so sure before I spoke, but the minute it left my mouth I wished to pull it back into my mind. I grabbed at the words and instead found nothing. There was only empty space. Where once the idea was concrete, unmoving, suddenly it became wild air, avoiding capture and definition. Or perhaps it was just their reaction that made me question myself.

I should have kept them in the peaceful dark. The issues are mine alone to deal with. No words from the outside should alter my decisions, no foreign thought contaminate them. The burden should not be shared when there is no benefit from sharing. I can deal with the world myself. There is no need to hurt others in the process. I care enough about them to wish them to be obliviously happy.

The input from them would not be of any help. Not much can be learned from those who do not understand. No matter how much they may try or how many times they may say they understand, never will they know enough to give the help I thought I needed. I should not have asked for something they cannot provide.

I should never have told them. I should never tell again.