rejection sensitivity disorder

i am made of concrete

no one in this world has supported me as much as i’ve supported myself

i hold it together in category 5 winds to protect my heart

and i let people walk all over me

i am made of glass

i am indifferent to what people think of me until a stranger tells me “no” in the wrong tone of voice

and every protective layer of me shatters until there is nothing but a small child in tears on a playground

too young to know it’s not normal to cry about these things

i am made of water

all life flows through me as well as the fiber optic cables at the bottom of the ocean

connecting me to my real friends

to my fake friends

and to my artificially intelligent therapist

telling me how to slow down my heart rate and find 4 things i can touch

i am air

i count to 4 thirty times

i blow my nose

i can breathe again