Who Am I?

I wanna walk through a park. Or go swimming and not be self conscious. I wanna run through fields at sundown and then lay out on a blanket looking up at the stars. I wanna dance in the rain. Sing as I clean. Or dance as I paint. And get messy. The good kind where my hair is everywhere and there different art substances all over me and I just don't care. I wanna sleep. One full night without a single nightmare. And play board games with the kids. And laugh. I need more laughter. I wanna feel the magic of the universe. Breathe in the air, watch the grass dance with the wind. I used to do these things. I used to be happy. But I don't know how to be happy anymore. I don't even know who I am anymore. My very soul is restless. Do you even care? I feel like the invisible woman. People don't even see me. They see a smiling or determined face behind the laundry, dinner, dishes, snotty noses, bottles, burps, etc etc. I'm back to looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger. When's the last time I brushed my hair or took a relaxing shower? Without any stress. That's really what I'm getting at here. When's the last time I felt pretty or wanted by more than sticky hands and Lego towers? When's the last time I laughed? Truly laughed? The kind that makes your belly hurt. And a deep adult conversation. Do those still exist? Because I'm having doubts over here. What happened to me? And why don't you see me anymore? Any of you! Is it really ssoeasy to believe I've got all my shit together or is it just easier for you to pretend? Does nobody really see what's happening here? Open your eyes people. I'm overboard. I'm drowning. And you're all staring down like I'm not desperate for someone, ANYONE, to help pull me out of the water. I just need a hand. That's all. But I guess not just any hand. Really only yours will do. Bad thing is, you don't understand.  You say you just want to feel needed. But here I am needing you and you don't even see me anymore... And for the love of all that is mercy don't say "we can do those things!" because we both know it isn't true. Words spark hope but at the end of the day I'm still down here, overboard, drowning in my own tears. No hand to help pull me through. Yet everyone wonders why I'm always so angry.