I'm a slave not asked to work

I’m human property. I belong to rich people. I can’t believe looking back that I’m the same person I was at 18, the thought of that brings tears. I was railroaded into my current position and I’m one of the more trusting and honest among us having. I needed help, I NEEDED HELP. I gave of myself a hundred times over, yes I could be an ■■■■■■■.

HELP. I’m at my wits end.

Hey man, call a crisis line! What’s up right now, I can see you’re not okay, but can you be more specific?

No. I can’t.

I don’t even need to call a crisis line as mental health is only a call away but is anything but this.

And no. I can’t. I’m an adult, which I’ve been since I was not even legally sonsidered such, probably less of one by now. I’ve been decieved and worn to the bone, only my heart and my mind in the sense of what can’t break, survives.

I was once compared to the guy being song about in this song, not that I even know what my reputation now, having been slandered, now is nor would I necessarily wish to relate myself to anyone. But this is what I was called:

Yeah I’m not really sure how to deal with being let down like that. It’s like on one hand, it’s not good to become bitter and lower your standards, believing that everyone everywhere will always let you down. But on the other hand, we’re programmed to learn from experiences. So if you get let down when you needed help the most, what are you supposed to learn from it? How do you prevent it from happening again?

My own mind tends to do “splitting” which is a borderline mechanism, either I trust completely or not at all, which isn’t really good.

The middle ground can be hard to find.

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