“A friend called me to help him in his pain, I put mine in my pocket and I went”

My bestfriend, who I consider as a “forlorn” brother, wrote to me in the middle of the night (night for him).

Usually when he writes to me not to share a fun thought, or talking about a philosophical reasoning, just writing “how are you feeling?” there are two option: or he worries about I’m feeling so bad, or he is feeling so bad. This time was the second case.

We have a similar method to distract ourselfes from our pain: to me, listen his problems, to him listen mine.We are selfish and selfless at the same time towards each other. In someway, it works.

He drowns his pain in alcohol from dizziness. I don’t drink, I don’t take drugs or anti depression pills (that maybe I need)

Sometimes I think he’s lucky that you can stun himself and not think anymore.I react to my pain overthinking. And my thoughts become delirious that I see no way out.

But I’m so used feeling in that way, that a part of me know that I will go on, Although with some piece of me ripped away.

But I’m so tired to keep going on my own, and fall again, and feel me in that way.I wish I could feel free to be in need of help as I really am. And not have to do on my own. I can be strong, but not always. I would like feel arms that take me by my hand and pull me out from a swamp. It’s hard to me ask help.