What a Hypocrite I Am for Wishing for Something I Never Had the Courage to Ask For

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I never asked for help—not even from the people I trusted most.

It’s strange, isn’t it? How you can love someone so deeply yet never allow them to see the parts of you that are broken? Whenever I struggle, I pull away from everyone I care about and hide in my own loneliness. I think that if I stay away for a while, things will get better. But they never do.

I avoid letting them see me in pain because I can’t bear the thought of their pity. I never want them to look at me with those eyes that seem to ask, "What’s wrong?" The truth is, even if I told them what I was feeling, I don’t think they would understand. How could they? My struggles are so personal and mixed up in emotions that I can’t even explain them to myself. So I keep everything inside. I suffer alone, like I always have, thinking it’s easier that way.

But the more I do this, the more I realize how unfair it is—not just to myself, but to the people who care about me.

I’m not being fair to them. I never gave them the chance to help. I never asked for their support. I handle my struggles alone, and then, when things get better, I return to their lives like nothing happened—like I never left them behind.

I’m so used to acting like everything is okay that I never thought about how it feels for them—to see someone they love struggle and not be able to help. They see me closing myself off, pushing them away even though they just want to help. I see the concern in their eyes, but I turn away before they can ask what’s wrong. I always think that if I just keep it all inside, I’ll find a way to carry it. I can do it on my own, I tell myself. I can do this without needing anyone’s help.

But the truth is, I’ve never asked. Not once.

I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to say what I need to say. Why asking for help feels so difficult—why I can’t let anyone in when I’m struggling. Maybe I believe that asking for help makes me weak, that I should be strong enough to handle everything on my own. But the truth is, I’m not strong—I’m just afraid. Afraid that if I ask for help, they’ll see me as weak, as someone who can’t handle life alone. And maybe the hardest part is admitting that I don’t trust anyone enough to show them my pain.

So I stay silent, and I suffer in silence.

But I’ve started to wonder—what if asking for help isn’t a weakness? What if it’s a strength? What if the people I love don’t see my struggles as burdens, but as opportunities to be there for me the way I’ve been there for them? What if asking for help could actually bring us closer rather than push us apart?

But I still don’t ask. And I think that’s what hurts the most.

I hope, no, I wish I could say what I’ve needed to say all along. I wish I could open up to the people I love and trust. But I don’t. Instead, I keep hoping they’ll understand and support me, without giving them the chance to do so. I keep my walls up, expecting them to break them down without me doing anything.

And that’s what makes me a hypocrite. I want the very thing I’ve never had the courage to ask for. I want help, support, and love—but I don’t know how to ask for it. So, I stay stuck, hoping for change but never doing anything to make it happen.

What a hypocrite I am for hoping for something I never had the courage to ask for.