Yes, congratulations to me. You see the somewhat functional me because i felt well enough to leave the house. You didn't see me sink into the black emotional vortex, and you weren't there when i clawed my way out of it. You stand there watching me shop for groceries, not knowing that i know the fastest way out of the place, and where all the men in the isle are standing. You won't be the one holding me during my breakdown at home, because i got in an argument with someone who got angry, and it scared me so badly i could barely drive through the shaking and tears. You don't know how deep i have to dig every morning to come up with the courage to raise my kids for another day, and all the entails. You want my money? Fuck yes, just trade me your health.