Crying for help – a response

Henna Sjöblom

Murder Tramp Birthday



You say you don’t care for my writing, yet you just had to stop by to try and figure me out. “See where it all comes from”, as if I was a disease, a virus outbreak.

I’m flattered.
But let me make this clear.
My writing is not a cry for help.

I don’t need to explain myself to you, random-passer-by who’s seen nothing but my darkness, not knowing for every shadow there’s a light shining behind, no, I do not need to justify myself to you.
(Yet look at me – I am.)
I do not need to be asked whether I’ve got a therapist
(I do.)
or if I’m suicidal
(I’m not.)
and whether I have any source of joy in my life at all
(oh, you have no idea.)

Problem is, you only know me trough a display, a canvas where I exhibit carefully selected pieces…

View original post 182 more words

Author: Sudden Denouement

A Global Literary Collective

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