I think this is going to end up becoming a depressive rant and that scares me because I haven’t felt an inch of sadness since I started my meds. But there are some kinds of pain that even medication can’t control. You try to cover the hurts with a band-aid hoping for them to heal, but what good are band aids when the hole in your heart is from a bullet.
I’ve been shot. I can’t explain how or why here, for the fear of being speculated and probed and incised by untrained surgical hands of my dear friends. I fear that I will bleed out.
I will nurse my bullet wounds, cover them up with band aids, and try to walk like no one notices the flinch on my face every time I draw a breath.
Social anxiety, my psychiatrist labeled my feelings.
Caution, I say. After all look where it got me when I opened up.
TheHyperteen 
I’m not about to speculate on your troubles, but I will say this: Learning to carry the weight on your shoulders while being expected to walk on thin ice without slipping (if that metaphor makes any sense) is an excruciating task. However, in my experience with this, so long as the choices you make are able to get you through the day, you’re making the right choices for yourself. And, in some cases, wounds simply need time rather than attention to fully heal.
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I’m all about metaphors haha ! I am feeling extremely pessimistic today so I will say that time waits for no one, my wounds are no exception 🙂
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