This silence feels familiar. I despise the deafening, familiar sounds of silence. They terrify me. I suppose the silence strangles me. Strangled, alone, screaming.
I Hate Being Ignored
People who know me, know this about me. They know how much I hate being ignored. They know that when they don’t return my calls or my emails my mind riles in negative and catastrophic scenarios. People who actually like me don’t want to do that to me. It’s the depression. It turns the pain of being ignored up to unmanageable levels.
Of course, there aren’t many people left who actually like me. Or at the very least, they don’t treat me like they do. I don’t know what it takes to be treated with care and respect. Most people just don’t treat me that way. (And yes, there are exceptions.)
Being Ignored Feels Like Loss
To lose another person I love. To lose another person I thought loved me. Not only does it prove to me that no one really does love me, but it also proves that no one ever will. That I can never trust that anyone actually does. Even the people who say they do, can watch me slip, screaming into the worst deadly mire without even blinking.
And here’s the question I leave to you: how many emails from a suicidal girl would you ignore? Even if you didn’t like her. I mean, really.
(Upon pushing the publish button I actually did receive a 1-word email. Perhaps I’m not being ignored, I’m simply immensely unimportant. Sort of not news.)