why I do what I do

I'm a people pleaser. I don't care how shitty I feel, if I was in a desert with one water bottle, with five other people, I'd let them go first. Because that's just what I do. I fix other people's problems for them. I bring the band aids, hold purses, and give the relationship advice. And when that advice fails, I buy water proof mascara and bad magazines. I patch up the holes and the broken hearts with duct tape and barbie band aids. I can't stand to have the people around me unhappy. I hate it. I'd rather have them be happy, and me be miserable. That's why I like make up. 'cause it patches up all the red marks and zits, and it makes you look pretty when you feel like crap. It's like a mask, nice and snug and warm. A protective shell, like a hermit crab. I like when I put on a lot of lipgloss, and it gets all thick and gooey. It's like armor for your lips. It makes me feel safe. Right now I feel wierd. Like I want to start crying and I don't know what else. I feel raw and exposed, and everything aches. I feel like I'm going explode and like i'm in handcuffs and i'm clawing and writhing around and searching for the key. I never write when I'm like this. I don't want to force my shit upon the random people of the internet. I'm private when it comes to feeling crappy. I'm like a dog, i think of showing pain as a sign of weakness. And why the hell am I writing this? I don't want pity. All I used to get when I was little was pity. Why am I upset. I'm crying right now, ruining mascara that I slaved over. I should stop. Shut up and stop. But I don't want to. When I feel sick, like while I'm in school. I never go home. I just wait until the end of the day, and then when I'm alone i collapse and burn. 'Cause that's how I am.
Sometimes I think that I try to fix other people's problems so I don't have to deal with my own. I love helping people, and distractions. I need distractions to function. Why am I like this? Is it me trying to run away from my problems? Sometimes I'm too focused on other people to look at moi, and then I get like this and it's eleven at night and i should be sleeping but I'm not and I want to crawl into a sleeping bag and zip it all the way up. But my whole premise of helping people is "do what you wanted people to do for you".
So basically I give all the love that I have, and some guts and a kidney. But most of the time, I get nothing back. and sometimes it's fine, most of the time i expect absolutely nothing. But then it's eleven at night and i need a sleeping bag.