You Handled It so Well

“You handled it so well.” Did I? Or did I just let you believe I did?

I curled up at night, crying myself to sleep, wishing I wasn’t here.

I was constantly at war with myself, to the point where the only rest was sleep. I locked myself away for days. I couldn’t even stand looking in the mirror because of self‑hatred.

It got so bad I couldn’t even pray to God. I was in so much darkness — how could He want to talk to me?

I tried to tell them, but no one understood my pain. So I went numb. Because if no one understood, if no one could see it, maybe it wasn’t there. Maybe I just made it all up in my head.

Still, the evidence lingers, written on my skin and carved in my memory. I have emotional and physical scars from it, and yet you still didn’t see. You still didn’t understand.

I am so lost. I can’t tell you if I have healed or if I am lying to myself again.

So no, I didn’t handle it well.