I feel like it's a terrible thing to admit. I feel like admitting it makes me weak. But I would hate for the people I care about to not be able to admit it, so maybe it's really what I need to do.

I just really need someone to step into my life who will care enough to ask, "What happened back there, Shelley? What broke you so much?" and be there for the answer.

That might seem simple, but only once did someone ask. It's hard to think that someone out there holds that piece of me and is long gone.