I am tired. Not the kind of tired that everyone else feels. I am tired of trying to fight for people who would never throw a punch for me. I want to tell you that I’m dying on the inside, that the toxins of the arguments I hear far to often have finally gotten to me. I am choking on the tears that I have been hiding from you. You ask me if I’m okay, and I hesitate. Am I ok? I’ll tell you, yes to keep you from the pain. I’m too afraid to tell you about the tears because this disease is contagious, it will kill you like it killed me. This disease will keep you up at night. It will force you to stain your pillow with tears. There is no surviving this. You should run while you can. I don’t want to hurt you.