Strong. Strong. Strong. Strong. Strong. Strong. I hate that word. I hate the way it sounds coming out of people’s mouths when they tell me to be it. I hate the way I spit it out as I’m picking myself off the floor, begging myself to become the definition do the overused word. I hate the way society has twisted the definition. I hate the way that being strong is considered to be pasting a glamorous smile on your face, how it’s thought of as pretending and ignoring your mind as it screams for help. I hate how I know you really are stronger to ask for help, but I’m too terrified to ask. I hate how some people would rather slice their skin or hang themselves than ask and be considered weak. I hate the word strong. I hate it because of what it’s done to the best of us.