I didn’t realize it was the brokens job to save the other broken people. I didn’t realize people born with every advantage has no responsibility for those who weren’t.
I didn’t realize that pain and trauma automatically morphed me into a savior for all. How does a broken heart heal while still in pain? Doesn’t it occur to you that I might cause trauma of my own?
You cannot mend what’s broken, if you are not intact.
I am a ticking time bomb. My PTSD left me with anger and rage that I cannot satisfy. Please don’t spill your cup. Please take off your shoes at the door. If I have to vacuum one more ******* time.
It’s not about the dirt. It’s not about the stain. It’s about the chaos I cannot shake. Constant instability, and disaster. I am unstable.
So no. I won’t share my story with someone to save them. Because I cannot save the broken. I will shatter what is left.
This is my first refusal. My very first no. And it is the kindest thing I have ever done