My mom found my injuries.

This was never supposed to happen.

Tuesday, I meet my first counselor… I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt anyone by doing this, but I’m also not ready to quit. Two years, this has been going on… I’m not ready for help. Am I ready for help?

I feel like I’ve been given wings, but I’m afraid of heights and I’m just not ready to fly. Who is to say that I’m ready for the glories of the sky when all I’ve ever known is the harshness of the ground? I’m just not ready for this. I’m not prepared for this. I am so afraid of what this woman will ask of me, of what she’ll find in me. I have plans. Can I just let her ruin them? Right now, the only thing I can think to do is sit, silent. But that will never last. Can I fake improvement, worm my way out of the scrutiny? Do I want to?

What if my brother finds out? What if my friends find out? What if the people from school, my teachers, my church somehow find out? What will they think? I’ve put on this facade of perfection for so long… I can’t afford to lose it. I can’t afford to be judged.

Eventually, I want to leave the scars. I want to be better. But not right now. Not today. I’m not done yet.

I didn’t ask for this. I’m not ready for this. Someone tell me what to do. Please. I’m so scared.