Letters From A Carefree Black Girl

As I sat down attempting to write an unrelated article, I found myself growing sad. Depressed even. I’m coming to the realization that I truly am alone even though I’m surrounded by men and women who appear to adore me. I don’t have anyone to tell my dreams to, anyone to talk about the things that are stressing me out. No one to confide in when I’m feeling lost, no one to come to when I’m excited about a new progression with an event I’m producing. No one to be me with.

I realize that I’m using men and work to feel a void. I understand that, but that doesn’t negate the fact that I’ll continue to do so until I find what I’m looking for...whatever that is. Okay, I actually do know what it is, but I'll never admit that to anyone. 

Part of the reason I don't want to be with anyone else until my 23rd birthday in May (or longer, who knows) is because I don't want to ruin anyone else. Dealing with someone that struggles with their mental health is a big struggle. There's no need for me to put that on another person who more than likely already has their own issues. 

The only thing I’m not alone in, is the feeling of being alone. Maybe I should stop draining my brain of all it's contents on this, huh? Let me go to sleep now.

-A not so carefree Black girl