I'm the kind of person people trust easily.
The kind of person perople trust... a lot.
They tell me things they've never told anyone before.
Things that burden them, weighting heavy on their minds.

I'm the kind of person that listens.
the kind of person that really tries to help them.
They tell me that people often ignore them when the subject becomes too personal.. they're turned away.
They say I'm a big reason why they're still around today.

I'm the kind of person to deal with things on my own.
The kind of person to filter even my emotions through logic.
It's always worked, it still mostly works.. but it's breaking.
What logic can't beat is repression.

Those repressed memories and fears burden me.
Logic can explain them, but that doesn't mean they'll vanish.
I feel like I'm okay. Sometimes I break down.
I don't feel like I need it, but those attacks are a sign I'd also need support.

I'm the kind of person that can't turn away from an obvious cry for help.
I'm the kind of person to which you will cry for help.
I'm the kind of person that will console you in your sadness, calm your panic, soothe your pains.
I'm still just a friend and I make that clear, I want it that way.

But I'm not about to give up on you if I've chosen to care about you.

Some of the people I help.. they're not able to reciprocate. And that's.. fine, I think.
I understand why, because I also feel it somtimes. Yet I push through.
Some of the others, they make it clear they'll be there for me, to do the same. And that's.. sweet, I think?
I appreciate it, because I know it's invaluable. Yet it, somehow, makes me cry.

I'm a cliché, a feelingless robot that only knows facts and science.
I feel a tear on my cheek, and stare in confusion.
I start to tremble, and jolt up to my feet.
I begin sobbing, and mildly panic.

''What the f#ck is happening to me, why, why..?''

I know what this is. I know I have anxiety. I know I have unresolved issues..

But only by writing it down, I can understand now.

My bottled up emotions are breaking out and throwing a tantrum.
I've repressed them for so long, they haven't even matured.
The Toddler has outgrown the cage in which I've trapped it, and now it shows me what it's capable of.

I understand that I will need help. I have the intention of holding on alone, just for a bit longer.

But I will find help, because this Toddler is not something I am equipped to deal with.