I wish I could explain but I literally can’t. Have you ever had a secret that you couldn’t tell anyone? Well that’s what it’s like for me but it feels so much worse. You have no idea how tight I’m bound. – life with mental illness
As I write this I already know it’s going to be jumbled up but it’s a combination of a bit of a bizarrely told story through a “letter” to myself from when I was in a very dark place, so friends if you’re still here please bear with me.
Just so this letter makes a bit more sense, I spent a lot of time alone but this letter was one I found, written during a horrible time in my life. A time when my illness consumed me and I lost myself in every way possible because I was chasing a dream that would inevitably be shattered by the harsh reality that is known as life.
Death is peaceful, easy, life is harder.But Is it possible that everything is true, the fairytales and the horror stories? Is it possible that there isn’t anything sane or normal at all? And now you have abandoned me, like everyone else. Who can I talk to – I’m so lost! When you disappeared and they all left you took my soul and sanity with you. But the absence of you is everywhere I look. It’s like someone has ripped my soul out of my body. Hey but in a way I’m glad because the pain is my only reminder that I am real, that this life is…
After a while those small cuts became big cuts and it didn’t help anymore. So you start to find other ways to destroy yourself, like never sleeping, drinking too much alcohol and sleeping around as well as letting your friends slowly drift away. You just laugh and laugh when people ask if you’re ok because after a while you know nothing can save you anyway. It’s like you’re not dead but you’re not alive either – like a ghost with a beating heart.
Depression is not beautiful and it’s certainly not romantic. Flowers don’t grow out of scars and kisses don’t heal unwell minds. When you feel like death is the only escape, but I’m telling you there are no roses and there’s no sunlight, it’s just a cold, dark, empty pain. You just can’t ignore them and “move on”, they linger within you, poisoning parts of your mind until you breakdown and scream because you just can’t take it anymore. You just can’t ignore them, these demons you live with are always there, you’ll just never be able to escape.
Then all of a sudden I changed, I came back a completely different person. With a new mindset, a new outlook and a broken soul. I was the guy who once cared too much about everyone and everything- I no longer cared at all. All I wanted was to inspire people. I wanted someone to look at me and say “because of you, I didn’t give up” but I guess that’s not going to happen now. I’ll tell you that I don’t want to talk about it but actually I do. But I’m afraid of your reaction, I’m afraid you’ll never see me as an equal again. I don’t want to be this way, I’m lonely, I’m so lost. I wrote this poem called Insanity when I was really unwell so here goes…
The colours fading on the walls nobody hears my screams or calls, it gets kinda lonely locked in a cell though the “invisible people” listen really well. Have I introduced you to the friends in my head? They helped me out when I wished myself dead. But I’m not allowed out alone anymore, trapped in this hell who knows how long for. I try to escape but I always get caught, my life like a sharemarket sold and brought. Chained and tortured I’ve done so much wrong, the days so short the nights too long. Will you come and visit? I’ll try not to bite feeling like I’m down in a grave as high as a kite. Everyone picks fights or ignores what I say though I try to be human in every possible way. But somehow I’m a monster scary and vile that makes everyone around me run a mile. I’m a nervous wreck, tattered and torn. I collapse on the floor defeated, is it because of how I was treated ? I’m drowning in an ocean of my tears, can anyone hear me or don’t you care?
But you know I’m not as strong as everyone seems to think I am and wanting to be alone is very different to being lonely. I have come to realise that nobody knows the real me. Nobody knows how many nights I spent crying in my room and nobody knew. Nobody knows how many times I feel like I’ve lost hope, how many times I’ve been let down. Nobody knows just how often I’m sat on the brink of an emotional breakdown, but I don’t, for the sake of others. Nobody knows the thoughts that go through my head when I’m sad, how horrible they truly are. Nobody. Knows. Me. But at the same time I’m afraid that if you got to know me better you’ll see how broken I am and just like all the others you’ll walk away.
That’s all for now, stay strong
Mental illness stole my education, it stole my friends, my motivation, my dreams, my future, my life
But worst of all it stole me.