Sharpen Your Knives and Prepare for War

The doctor tries.
She supposed to help.
She tries to help.

But I don't open up.
I'm so used to hiding.
I don't want to open up.

She says she's not here to judge.
That's a lie.
You can see that she judges.
You can see it in her eyes.
The way they shine
The way they get darker.
She judges me.

She judges me because I won't open up to her.
She judges me because I get bad grades.

This is supposed to be therapy.
Therapy is supposed to help.

Maybe it would help if I opened up.
I can't.
I stopped opening up a long time ago.
When my mom snapped at me.
I could never talk to her.
So I never talk to anyone.

My best friend.
I talk to her.
I open up to her.
I trust her.

She won't tell anyone.
Will she?

She wouldn't betray me.
Would she?

I don't know why I trust her.
My other "friends" have betrayed.

Maybe it's because she going through the same.
Maybe because she opens up to me.

I won't open up to the doctor.
I'm a locked book.
Only my best friend has the key.
She keeps it safe.

She keeps it safe because I keep the key to her book safe.
We owe each other that.
We keep our secrets between us.
No one needs to know.

Sometimes it hurts.
I don't want to feel like this.
But I can't open up to the doctor.
If she judges me without opening up, imagine how she'd judge me if I did.
I don't want to hurt.
But I won't open up.

I told her about my suicidal thoughts.
She asked me why.
I told her I don't know.
That was a lie.
I know why I'm suicidal.
But I won't open up.
I can't.

I don't trust her.
I don't trust my mom.
I don't trust my aunts.
I don't trust my uncles.

I trust my best friend.
Like she trusts me.

I trust my animals.
They won't tell.
They can't.

I'm opening up here.
I'm opening up because I can't be judged.
I can't see the looks on people's faces when they read.
I don't know them.
They aren't close to me.
They won't ever be close to me.
I can trust them.

I can't trust doctor.
I can see her.
I can see the judgement in her eyes.

I won't open up.
It hurts to be locked up.
But I'm afraid it'll hurt more if I open up to her.

So I stay locked.

I lied.
I don't open up fully to my best friend.
I don't tell her everything.
I don't think she'd be my best friend if I did.
I tell her almost everything.
But never everything.
That's okay though.
I know she does the same with me.

I'm like a bottle.
I hold everything in.
My cap is on tight.
It's secure.

Maybe the right person will come along.
The one that can open me.
Open me without tearing me.
Open me without hurting me.
Open me without leaving.

But they haven't come yet.
Will they ever?
Maybe.

I don't like that word.
Maybe.
It's too uncertain.
People tell me that too much.
Maybe.
Whenever I'm told maybe I get hurt.

I don't like that word.
Maybe.

Just like I don't like opening up.
I open part of the way.
People try to pry me open more.
Bad idea.
That makes me snap shut.
It hurts.
They hurt to, because I snap at them
I feel guilty.
It is their fault, though.

Don't try to pry me open.
Don't hurt me.

I don't want to open up all the way.
I want to stay bottled up.

So I do.

I'm sorry, mom.
I'm sorry, aunts.
I'm sorry, uncles.
I'm sorry I won't open up to you.
You don't understand.
Let's just leave it that way.

Leave me closed.

Don't open me.