I felt so guilty admitting that I was sad, that I was hurting. I don’t know why.

Maybe it was because I didn’t think my life was bad enough to feel that way. Maybe I felt undeserving of sadness.

It was pretty ironic, in any case. That’s why I didn’t talk about it much. I couldn’t bear to see the expression of disdain on someone else’s face. I couldn’t bear the judgement.