pplmusthate2seeme

It creeps up, at night, in the shower, in bed, and during times it shouldn’t. It rather comes and goes but makes it presence known: the voices, hallucinations, depression, intrusive thoughts, flat affect, lack of interest/satisfaction, the indifference, and it begs to stay. It latches onto me and keeps me weighed down, so much so that I can barely breathe or hold back tears. I can’t remember a time when I felt okay, when I wasn’t constantly looking over my shoulder, crying in the shower, having panic attacks on the bathroom floor, and running. Most especially running, all I do is run away from every singular thing in my life: emotions, feelings, thoughts. I’ve been told by too many professionals “you’re not sick,” “you seem to be handling it well,” “you are so well rounded and doing well,” “you are the easiest person I’ve treated.” Little do they all know that It’s false, I’m not healed, well rounded, handling things, and most importantly I am so beyond sick, that I am beyond saving. I am no longer a living human being. I am a diasterous monster labeled as a “human being.”

I thought by now someone or anyone would notice my intricate movements: how I am never showing emotions other than sadness, how I leave the bathroom happier than when I went in, how I wear longselves when I’m getting bad again, how it’s fucking killing and ripping me apart, shred by shred, and how I am only being tied down to this realm by my neck with a silly and thin purple yarn string.