I wish could easily make people understand that it’s not them, it’s me. When I don’t reply, it isn’t because I don’t want to talk. I have thoughts that eat me alive. They steal away reality and leave me with nothing but sadness, and that makes it hard to talk, it makes it hard to breathe. Some days all I can manage to do is sit on the couch, because if I make any type of movement I think the world might crash around me.