So, the voices began. The thoughts set in.

It’s been a while, and the struggle has lingered.

I don’t like to talk about my personal things very often, even when you think I am, it’s not what’s really going on. People think they know the real me.

The real me is a shadow.

I’m not as strong as I was. These past months have been one long continuous bad day.

I can’t hide from my head. It’s like I know what to do, and I know how to do it, but I can’t and I won’t.

I’ve tried to speak out, but no words…

You think this is a story, but this is my life.

This is my reality.

This is my brain, my mind, my weakness.

My mind is scattered like this. Everywhere. Line. Skip. Line.

Shame on me for wanting to pretend to be someone I obviously can’t be. It’s not real.

I’m not myself when I step outside. I put my mask on, like a makeup routine.

I hurt.

In a way that most people will never hurt.

I cry.

When no one sees me. When no one hears me.

I live.

Even when I don’t think I deserve the life I was given.

It’s emotional wreckage.

So what do I do?

I linger on, hoping someone will stop. Hoping someone will see me.

I pray that someone helps me. That I can heal.

I treat myself as the human I should be, not the demon I secretly am.

You don’t see me. You don’t know. Don’t guess. Give me your hand.

All I want is to feel like life will be better, and that I will get better.

I’m not like anyone else, and I need to let myself know that.

My illness is different.

And my life is mine to love.


I’m dealing with things right now, that no one seems to understand, and honestly I never really understand. I’m hiding for a reason, and that reason is that I need to figure this out. I’m fucked up. But I’m changing. And I’m sorry if you aren’t involved in this change. Maybe that’s for the good.

I’m learning to love myself again. Give me time, and give me hope.