Can I Just Ask a Question?

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Do I seem like the type of person that you can easily walk all over?
Like the type of person whose purpose in life is to be used; to be a springboard for others in preparation for bigger and greater things?
Do I seem like the type of person unworthy of genuine affection?
Be it by my own hand, or an inability to recognise and relate to my brand of humanity?
Perhaps I am being a bit, melodramatic reader. Don't you think?
What could have led to this harrowing portrayal of sadness you ask?
Well, dear friend... good ol' fashion, character-building rejection.
See, most people take rejection a lot easier than I ever will or ever could.
For me rejection is a mark upon my conscience; it signals to me that I am not wanted and it feeds into my pathological insecurities.
Especially when the rejection comes in the wake of emotional vulnerability and honesty, which is a rare colour on me. 
Rejection tells me that it's better to be silent than to be vocal about how you feel.
And so, silent I have been.
Silent about my pain, about my tears.
Silent about my joy and successes.
Telling myself, that it's for the best. Give the mic to someone else who needs it more.
You are fine.
But am I though?
Am I fine?

Location: Nairobi, Kenya

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