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When the world outside has gone quiet

Perhaps if I just lie here everything will be fine.

Perhaps If I just lie here quietly, maybe just maybe, nothing will happen.

Perhaps my mind will stop spinning endlessly, perhaps I can trick my mind; my racing thoughts, that I am still sleeping. Perhaps my body will relax and not be so stressed.

The world demands so much from me.

To be and to act like everyone else.

It is achingly hard.

I am not like everyone else. I am different. I am me.

I am injured. I am damaged goods. Compared to the others I feel like a clown, a freak, an outcast.

I cannot do this.

They all talk so easily, look so good.   They are not like me and I am not like them.

I have bruises, black and blue marks and broken bones. My injuries are not visible but they are there, real, even after all these years. Deep, lingering scars. They start to show little by little then more and more when people outside speak with me. My conversation is messy; I pull things down, trip up and fall. It becomes uncomfortable. For everyone.   I screw up and they pull away from me. I never learn. I become more and more insecure.

I lie here quietly.

I cannot do this anymore.

I will not do this anymore.

I feel safe today, here in my bed. My duvet, a shield, the Netflix series, my armour. The noise a constant distraction. It shuts out everything.

I just lie here.

Maybe no-one misses me.

Maybe no-one cares.

Maybe I will just be on my own. Me, just me.

It feels better.

It is easier.

Just leave me please.

For a little while longer.

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