Don't you tell me I can't do it or that I am not doing it or that you think I need help.
I will tell you that I can do it and I am doing it and that I am dong just fine without anyone's help.
(And I will be lying.)
But you can't tell me I need help. I will tell you, when I am ready, that I need help, and with what.
And it will once again kill off a little piece of me. Like a cancer eating away my dignity and having my soul for dessert.