I don’t make dozens of trips to the door to make sure they are properly locked when I am over at someone else’s house or when I have someone over at mine, because, they will surely notice. Why do you keep doing that? Are you scared?
I don’t talk about how terrified I get when a family member or a close friend doesn’t take my call, because I am sure a lot of people would wonder why that gets me anxious. They are fine. You worry too much.
I never let anyone know how terrified I am of animals, from tiny ants to the biggest of them. I once left my room for an entire week during my university days because of sugar ants. They are harmless.
When people look at me, they see a cute young woman who appears to have it all together. My true, broken self is hidden away, taken out only rarely and tentatively with those I trust completely.
Sometimes, the perfect, shiny surface cracks. Sometimes a tear slips out (or gallons of them). Sometimes I scream with rage. Sometimes I ask for help, even though the asking is terrifying.