And it gets me pissed when the mask slips a bit and suddenly you get a glimpse of all there is behind the smiles and texts. And suddenly you care. You ask questions about my mental health. And when I lock up, I'm a bad person? I'm pushing you away? Where was all the concern when I was writhing beneath the pain, when I was going numb and the silence got loud? You weren't there. Because you felt it was fine. You felt I was fine. What happened to being friends? To reading in between the lines, to being able to tell when something's up? My only crime is knowing the world isn't safe, and learning to protect myself from its antics. You call it fear. I call it self-preservation. Cuz you're the myopic one, not me.