Girl in the Bubble

Maybe I've been lucky. Maybe I've managed to dodge bullets. But it seems as if my friends and family have managed to not have serious problems in their lives. Sure, there have been the blips along the road, but no serious addictions or depressions or anything like that.

At least none that I know about.

I suppose this shows how lucky I've been, at least that's what I always used to tell myself. As I get older,  I'm beginning to believe that I don't hear these stories because people are afraid that I can't handle it or that I won't help. I hate to think that I have that barrier around me. Or that I wasn't strong enough to help you handle some of your burden.

I am seeing, more and more, how much so many people go through. I like to pretend I don't know anyone who has been raped or has serious suicidal thoughts or a secret so deep and awful they can barely say it out loud, but I know that simply can't be true. My problems tend to be of the "I really wanted the black ipod but all they had was the silver, so should I wait until they get the black ones or is the silver one really going to be alright" variety. I'm sure that's a part of it. How could I possibly understand a real problem when mine are so vanilla?

I hope that if someone comes to me, I can be strong for them. I know I can. Maybe I haven't felt what they have or gone through the fires they have, but I will be here for them. I don't want the people I care about to hold me at arms length or protect me. You can show me your flaws or your scars, and I will still love you.

I suppose this is a letter to all of those I haven't been there for. Maybe neither one of us was aware that this was happening. I am so sorry.

To my friends: I am here for you. Absolutely. Without judgment. And I am sorry if you ever felt I couldn't be.