Angels and Scars.

I was just reading the topics & messaged on he To Write Love On Her Arms
message board on facebook.

And I noticed there are so many people, strangers reaching out.
Trying to help.
They donate their time to help people like me, the reckless, the hopeless, the helpless,
the abandoned, the lonely, the hurting.
They are creating change.
Never in my life have I seen such love, given by strangers.
People who are willing to save your life.
Save you from that minute you want to cut, down the alcohol, pop the pills, take your life.

I've seen a lot of people on there who are mess just like me.
They've opened up, gotten the courage to speak up and let their voice be heard.
They have spoken their story.
Revealed their scars.
Their secrets.

They are so much braver then me.
Though, I am proud of them.
I wish I could open up & tell my story to them.
Tell them my pain.
Even whisper a single word about it.
But I simply can't.
It's much more complicated then I thought.

Even though it seems confessing your secrets to complete strangers
sounds either strange or better then confiding in a close friend,
I still cannot do such a thing.

Even though I know they won't judge me,
I am still living in fear.
I can't open my mouth and speak the words out on this screen.
I can't even write it out on paper.
It's that difficult to confess.

I wish I could reveal my story to them,
they seem trustworthy,
people who will hold on to your secret, cry for you and try their hardest to save your life.

I believe they are angels.
But I am still living in fear, dealing with my own demons that I don't dare say a word.