The first time I told you

The first time I opened to my friends, in my car, about how much I hated myself, all the terrible and horrendous things I've said to myself during all my life, I saw how my friend's heart was broken on my behalf. Her eyes hurt, I saw pain and how bad she felt that I was saying all these words about her friend. I'd never seen second-hand pain in anyone's faces, specially if it was directed towards me.

Everytime I speak harshly to me, that I treat me bad, I remember those eyes, that second-hand pain in them. 

I'm sorry for hurting me in silence, for not telling you about it.