By now, you should all know that I'm a quiet person.My last post was all about my lack of participation on conversations. I seem to have made myself out to be a little bit of a moaner. That's probably true. There's always something i could have a good winge about. But that's not all I am.

I'm a worry guts. The people I love the most mean so much to me. I like to think I know these people fairly well. I've not got a large group of friends, but the friendships I do have have bonds as strong as steel. I really get to know people and grow so attached to them that it hurts me to see them upset. I have a strong sense of empathy, I know when they're down and I would do anything to cheer them up.

But sometimes they can't be cheered up. Either, I'm the one upsetting them, intentionally or otherwise. Or something has happened to them that I can't affect. I would take a bullet for some of the people I'm closest too, but the feeling of helplessness I get when I see them struggling with grief or illness or family issues breaks my heart. I want them to tell me what I can do to make it better but oftentimes, there's nothing. Some people don't like opening up and talking about things that are getting them down. That's understandable, but it hurts me so much to see them change mood so quickly without any warning or explanation. I can't expect everyone to tell me everything that's on my mind.

I just want those people to know how much I love them. Some people, myself included, try to be strong and proud and not ask for help. They struggle through their problems, hiding them from the world to try and brush them under the carpet. But I know from experience how that turns out. During my angsty teenage years, I closed myself off from everybody. As my problems built up, I got more and more stressed, more and more introverted, more and more upset. After years of not talking to anyone about what was upsetting me, boys, family issues, academic stress all swimming about in my head driving me crazy, I exploded. I blew my top at my friends and family. Friends withdrew from me, not wanting anything to do with the girl who had screamed at them over nothing. My family actually wanted to get me psychological help. I'd gone from this quiet, reserved girl to an absolute monster. I would slam doors, scream and shout, ignore them, cry. I lost a grip on reality for a time, swimming about in this seemingly bottomless pit of anger.

Because I refused to talk about what upset me for all those years, I still feel the residual effects. I'm sarcastic, I avoid confrontation and the friends and family who stuck by me through the dark times still give me the odd worried look when I get stressed. I've lost faith in myself and my ability to deal with stress. I don't feel comfortable talking about my feelings with most people.

I wish to make a plea to each and every one of you reading this. If any of you ever feel like you're falling into the same hole I've described, GET HELP. There's no easy solution, but I would hate for any of you to go through what I did. I am always here to listen to anything that any of you need to get of your chest. Even if it's me that's bothering you. Tell me, I want to help. I love you all and I want to look after you when I can. Take care of yourselves.