How can you have the audacity to tell me to get over it?
You have no idea what my life is like.
If I were to jump out of my shoes and give them to you, I bet you'd fall the first step.
You don't know what it's like to carry around this much self hate.
You have no clue about the secrets I must keep just so I won't be judged.
You know nothing of my past , of my present or of my conflicted emotions.
All this anger I have on my shoulders would weigh you down to the ground.
The depression would drive you mad.
The happiness would feel invisible. The hate would be dominant.
My emotions are chains that pull me to the ground.
And I have managed to stand up and continue to walk on. With these shoes I have now taken off.
I gave you my shoes, you proved me right.
Get over it.