Hurts. It hurts. Why does it hurt so much. I want it to stop. I need it to stop. Go away. Please go away.

Everyone is lying. No one cares. They can't wait for me to be gone. No one cares.

Loving them means I shouldn't be a burden to them. What is a period of mourning without me to a lifetime of angst and grief with me. I can't help them help me. It's worse for them when I'm around them.

Perhaps it's just me but... It's dark here. Where do I find light?

Mind tricks? No. This is me. It's not mind tricks. It's me. I'm broken. I can't be fixed if the wrong is me. I'm that rotten and hopeless and helpless.

Eventually, this life is going to fade. I could do everyone the biggest favor. I could save myself from the lies I tell me. Perhaps when it fades faster, I'll be the hero finally.


- In every cry. In every thought. In everything that a depraved mind works out, there's a silent hidden "Help me". -



It's not about me. Or at least that's what I tell myself. Every time I read about someone who's given in, I have to remind me that it's not about me.

But yet I get it. I understand. I know the moments when the demons take over and your mind is no longer yours. There is no reprieve or comfort or will or strength and all you can do is to rely on that pill or that therapist and hope that your faith in God will deliver you somehow. There is nothing you have control over.

That's why it's a mental illness. And now that I'm on this side, I cannot stress enough the importance of seeking the right medical help. The world outside of the realm of professionals and patients doesn't understand or even begin to comprehend the surface of this complicated illness. But it's very real and it needs the right treatment. Not self-help mind control books. In mental illness, a patient has very little control over his or her thoughts. He... she... we are completely reliant on others. So it's the "right" others who truly understand that can help us.

Even today, I'm still scared. It's happened twice. I've seen smiling faces hide the anguish and hurt and hopelessness the way I used to. I've heard those smiling faces give in to their demons and leave us. And I'm so damn scared that if it's happened twice to me, it can happen the third time.

And in those moments, will I realize it early enough to get help again? I honestly don't know. :(