empathy.

"we're good right?"

 I respond in a manner complimentary to you.


You leave, and I'm torn.


Because you see, this isn't just a discussion. This isn't just a differing of opinion. I haven't had too much to drink, and you're not wrong. This is a constant state for me. This is living, and dying in my skin.

But the instant violation I feel. The having to tamp down on my emotions, because somehow emotions negates everything I'm thinking and feeling...you don't understand this is triggering for me, and I don't know how to help you to understand. You'll never stand in my shoes, nor me yours.

Just because you don't get it. Just because you cannot fathom my fear, my distrust, my entire existence... why does that cancel out all I am thinking? I'm feeling? Because in the moment I can't quote statistics for you? Because the overwhelming feeling to double over, to make myself small, to retreat... it's less real, because you do not understand it? Empathy.

And you don't see it.

I'm left in a painful place. A place I always have to live in. Don't express too much. Don't open up, because I do in moments of an extra drink, a vulnerable place- and it doesn't count. It never counts. Don't you see, I feel safer here. the loosening of my tongue... but you don't want that. Keep it an even keel.


So I self soothe when you leave. I excuse. While I'm torn apart.

All whilst you sleep. Because I told you we're good. And I'm not.