Sharing

In non fiction writing class I had to share my writing. Or rather.... The professor did. I ended up in tears.

Weak. I'm weak. I still struggle when looking Into the painful past. But it's so easy to put it out there... So hard to take it back in by rereading it.

I was still shaking ten minutes later. I even had to leave the roo after people for my next class came in because I started crying again.

To answer the question of what I wrote, I wrote about Highschool. The loneliness. I didn't actually go into any details, but I mentioned the bipolar. I didn't mention a lot. The pain. Fear. How breathing and living was agony.  I probably wouldn't have even been able to open my mouth if I had.

My heart is still pumping. My chest still hurts although my hands have stopped trembling.

So many memories.