I Just Want Someone to Know Who I Am

I exist...I know I exist. I breathe.
I live deeply within myself, shying away from public, human contact and interaction.
I want someone to know who I am. I want someone to know, intimately, my pain.
I don't have hopes, wishes or dreams. I just want someone to hear me scream.
I've been trapped...inside myself, with memories...memories that scare me and hurt.
I want to confide, to release the onslaught, the tide.
The essence of who I am is ensconced in a silenced tomb. And I don't want to live there no more...in the forced, suppressed wordlessness.
The truth is rarely spoken. Flowers in the wind. Skating on cracked ice.
Who am I really?
I am the ultimate survivor. My life revolves around getting through the next day, the next hour or minute. Always has.
I accept that I wasn't given the option of college and career, public servant and consulate volunteer, saving this or that worthy cause.
(In a small, far away voice) "i'm a worthy cause"
There has been no salvation from the outside, no strong, caring family, loving partner, supportive friends...there isn't help outside...it has all had to come from within.
I don't want to die with no one ever knowing that I have lived.
I write about what I know. Writing is the purest salvation for you cannot bandage a wound you cannot see. I write to know me, to prove I'm real.
I exist.
The pain and hurts that have created me, exist.
And I will share them.
I will write and write and write and I will set myself free.
Maybe I'll be heard.
At least I'll get to know me.