There's an element of seduction that exists within the lack of inclusion when spending your worth based on your reliance for someone else. Only to yourself is it non-committal and only to yourself, when the lack of concern for you, is when the consequence is fully understood as a form of withdrawal. To understand the temptress of reliance and her need to be so badly reciprocated comes only at the cost of being dissatisfied with the solitary presence of yourself, where a lack of personality is enough to fill your cup just as long as someone else has the pitcher in an opposing hand. I tend to explore these possibilities from the standpoint of the reader, although I'm the one putting pen to paper. So often we sell ourselves to those based on what they want to hear, providing them with words to meet their expectations, not provide them with the tools to think otherwise. What does X want? That's not what she wanted to hear. Give what you know will sell. Therein sits a lack of honesty, a lack of truth in abundance. Only here is it when the reader has to come to terms with the fact that they seldom write for themselves in the first place, and what a hard pill to swallow. To have the knowledge and so little to show for it has the potential to hurt worse than learning the lesson and allowing it to introduce a new concept to build on what you already think you know. Where I came to understand my own declining state was somewhere between me and you; though both could be misinterpreted in likeness. To keep from sounding hurt was only a ruse - to go as far as to trick myself into thinking there was a certain amount of time I needed to spend inward before I began to heal was no simpler than where I began to understand that instead of making my impression come off as untroubled was lying to anyone involved. I had come to remember advice I had given to my sister years ago that was nothing short of "do not do something for someone who wouldn't do the same for you in return," and began to eat my own words. Unable to swallow, I began to choke and, to no one's surprise, no one came to aid in the dislodge. There comes great responsibility in being a person that cares for another person when the circumstances aren't entirely clear. Being someone who gives love, time, and energy and does not expect it back has become something so commendable, so brave, so honorable without saying so and is almost harrowing to those similar to myself at this time that begin to feel they're nothing but a running tap for those thirsty enough. Before I continued to cover up what I was truly trying to say with poorly timed metaphors, I had to accept that what was being thrown to me was a collection of situations all at one time and if dealt with otherwise, not any one circumstance would be hard to navigate if isolated. It was the culmination of these beings making it close to unruly to bear. The mediums of communication for these proses seemed endless. I had explored every possibility to make my message clear without directly stating it, as I didn't want to feed what it was that was making me angry in the first place. A shallow reach could first be implemented - shaming those who outwardly preach to "check on your friends... especially the strong ones," but still had to ask people they considered close friends if they were okay. My comprehension swayed towards the notion that if you truly cared to reach out to someone, you would reach out and "check on" them before their lack of presence became a threat, not only after the signal was sent out. Before I could fall any further down the first world hole of despair, I pulled the reins to be sure what I was saying was valid, not out of spite, and not simply my need for reciprocity. Both sides of the story provided an argument. One side bled with a color familiar only to myself, soaking the assumption that what I really needed was to care less for others and care more for myself, although being a shoulder was a prominent trait of my personality. The second attracting the proof that what needed to be done was a dissection of those taking advantage of the former, thus removing what and who was placing me on a pedestal of my own dim light. The truth was: perhaps a touch of both were expected to be considered. No one side was correct and no one side was thoroughly disposable. What I came to terms with echoed through my head in a blunt tone I'd never had with myself before. You will not find someone devoting as much time to you as you are to them. Though up for debate, much like most arguments are, I couldn't write this inkling of knowledge off as my voice of reason speaking to me in a way I would never speak to another human being. My own worth quickly became based not on what I believed in myself, but what I was receiving from other people, a mirror of what I had given to them. A common mistake of the looking - glass self, what had played its own hand in my card game time and time again. To mention the lack of mental health goes without saying, but existed ironically during what was lesser known as Mental Health Awareness Month, having been observed May of every year since 1949. Much like having to tell people it's Mental Health Awareness Month, my lack of comprehension was only a topic so as I wanted it to be, so as I began it, so as I was willing to bear what is still so fervently a taboo in this time it seems easiest to have a conversation with someone about what they're going through. The fact of the matter is my age has no time to think of anyone but themselves, and that knowledge comes from a less cynical point of view and moreso the aforementioned matter-of-factly. These are observations I'd be wrong to polarize, as this time dealt with excruciating solitude and an influx of anxiety produced the most silence imparted in any relationship I have ever been a part of. The vicious circle of reasoning, validation, and acceptance continues to run laps around me as I attempt to explain to you why this is so plaguing and why, should you be concerned, I've been rendered to this state of mental cease and desist. Where not much else of this makes sense, my biggest fear came to truth as a positive spin I had been so terribly avoiding for the sake of the inability to grow flowers in a desert. If there's anything I wish for the reader, whether you or me, to take from this is how to use this time of feeling significantly replaceable to the advantage of one's own "someone else." While wrestling with a feeling of being easily disposable seems to have no end in sight, my hope in this isn't to stir the pot, nor is it to cause a commotion, but to teach you, or me, the reader, a lesson. Whatever the lesson may be, at whatever cost it comes to me, I hope it finds you in a state of knowledge. I hope it finds you in a state of pure emotion and with the intent to make a change in some form, even if it has nothing to do with me, both the reader and writer. Most of all I hope it finds you in a state of confidence for your own dismay and that no matter how small the issue, you never feel invalid for feeling such a way. Where my anger, then subsequent disappointment, tends to take the best of me these days, I hope you make it a point to check on those that you love, don't let them be rendered to this state of speechless-ness, because in the end what conversation needs to happen is only up to you, and a discussion can't happen one-sided.