Asking for help is not the problem, but the guilt afterwards is. The telling of my emotions would be bearable without the feeling in the familiar aftermath. If I reveal what happened, the explanation would be unknown. The confusion, questions, and anger of what I did would control me. I would have to explain. I would have to explain why. "Why did you do that?" "Why didn't you tell me?" "What was going on?" "I'm so sorry." "Are you okay?" "Is there anything I can do to help?"
What am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to respond? How will I get through a day without all of that?
Do I ignore it? Do I try to make them understand? But both of those options are useless. They're both not worth my time or tears; but my questions still remain unanswered. I don't know. And at the time I couldn't care any less.
I care too much, I don't care enough. I say too little, I say too much. My current quest is to discover the happy medium between this all. Today, tomorrow, or never? Which will it be?