Every day I wait for someone to see past the confidence and the laughter and the smiles. I keep waiting for someone to reach me, to tell me they can really see me. I keep waiting for someone to hear the sirens, to see the warning signs. Every morning I hope someone would ask me how I was and really wait for me to answer. Every night I pray and wish that tomorrow I would feel the smiles, I would mean the “I’m fine’s, that I would stop looking for new ways I could die. All these years, there has been no one to pull me through. There have been moments of weakness, when I have sat in therapist chairs and attempted to explain this emptiness, when I have knelt in altars begging the heavens above, when I have texted someone just to talk, even when I sit the same spot everyday and break with people a foot away. Well, the doctors dosed me up, and sent me with mindfulness exercises. The priests and pastors asked for penance on my behalf and wished with me that religion could fill that vo