This was normal. Avoidance was normal. For at least fifteen years of my life, I kept my emotions repressed, my secrets under lock and key. Not once did I ask myself if I could talk about my life to anyone, I couldn't. Instead of learning to talk about my life, my feelings, my problems, my difficulties and my state of being… I learned to feel ashamed. I learned badly. At seventeen I know that keeping things inside isn't healthy. I know that stomach acid doesn't affect sensations the same way as food. On the contrary, they grow. They pile up like hair in a drain, dirty, dark and disgusting. At seventeen I know that the emotions held inside are like bombs waiting for the pressure to inflate. And at seventeen, I know that the only way to truly find closure, to be truly happy, to release the pressure and avoid total collapse… is to open up