“Use your story. Save someone like you”

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