This is beautiful. "hugs"I saw one of my goldfish die when I was 12, but I wasn’t sure. It went into its little rock house and turned white, then stopped moving. I felt like I should have been able to save it somehow, so I blamed myself for its death, and felt too bad to tell anyone. It was all I could think of for the next day, and I couldn’t stop crying when I told them. My family got me a little doll figurine to help me feel better.
Besides that, sometimes I hid my pain because I didn’t want them to think I was faking headaches so I could take painkillers when I didn’t really need them. I don’t know why I thought like that, but I used to feel weird about taking them. My parents never said anything to make me think that way, but I had heard of other people who were like it, and I’ve always been an overthinker.
I hid my anxiety from people too - especially my father, because of the way he responded once or twice when I tried to tell him. I hid it from my friends back then as well. Actually I still do to a large extent, I only really tell people that I'm very close to - I just don't think they can relate to it. In fact I know they can't.My actual self, I hid it behind behavior I imitated from others in an attempt to fit in. I acted in a completely inauthentic way.
I also hid my social anxiety and everything that comes with it. They didn't know how much I've struggled until my twenties. It took years for my father specifically to accept it. We didn't communicate very well until just a few years ago. Now we do, and he has a pretty good idea what my fear is like.
Oh, haha. How could I forget that? I had a huge stack of hand-drawn and hand-written porn. I was always terrified someone would find it because, honestly, it was pretty weird. This was way back before I had a computer and long before the Internet. You really had to roll your own back in the day.I'm going to be really obvious here, but all the porn.