I have a mental illness.
I have a mental illness.
I have a mental illness.
This the first time I have ever written that statement. I have still never said it aloud.
There is a stigma attached to it. It is a statement that automatically strips my words of their legitimacy.
I am a crazy man.
I have a mental illness.
It started when I was little.
I have always been very sickly.
Physical stress has always correlated with emotional stress and vice versa.
I have always been fragile.
I internalize everything. It builds up inside me and rests on my shoulders. When I am sad, I feel it in my entire body. It is intense physical pain.
I have crippling depression and anxiety and panic attacks that literally leave me paralyzed. I sometimes don't know where or who I am.
I have heard voices. They have told me to do things.
If I had a regular physical illness, no one would blame me for it. It wouldn't be my fault.
But I have a mental illness. This means it is my fault. This means there is something that I am not doing right.
This means I am a failure.
I have never felt successful.
I do not know what it means to be happy.
I do not know what it means to feel loved.
I know that I am loved. I have just never felt it.
I push people away because I am scared that they'll leave me. Tonight the sight of two people holding hands made me cry.
I am terribly lonely. I fear that I will always be alone.
In fact, I know I will always be alone.
People tell me I'm smart, but I never believe them.
I can't be smart. I'm crazy.
I can never seem to crawl out of the dark space I'm in. It is an endless cycle. Nothing has really ever changed.
I want to change.
I want to be well.
I really, really, really, want to be well.
I can't go through life anymore like this.
Waking up every morning wondering if today should be the day that I take my life.
Wondering even now if this should be the last thing that I right.
I want to live for something, but there is nothing to live for.
I am so very terribly lonely.
I thought writing all this out would make me feel better.
I thought I'd have a break through today.
There is no fucking breakthrough.
Fuck. I just want to be well.
I want to be loved.
and to love.
I want someone to be holding my hand.
I want someone who understands me.
But I have a mental illness.
and so i go on alone.
10:48 p.m. - 2012-09-27
Recent entries:
Awake in My Tiny Cage - 2014-11-03
God. - 2014-10-27
I remember me. - 2014-10-17
The Paper - 2014-10-13
A Post About Not Doing Anything - 2014-10-12
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