Pretty words on Mental Illness
I have weathered storms and nightmares that you couldn’t even face.
I have fought and conquered demons that would swallow you whole.
I have watched my life fall completely to pieces more than once. And I have picked up those pieces, cut myself on their sharp and unforgiving edges, and put myself back together.
Every single fucking day is a battle for me. My scars run deeper than rivers, and my pain would devour you.
Because, you see, the monsters live deep inside of me. Prowling my blood veins like an endless forest. There are five of them that hunt within my body. Stalking my thoughts, making meals of my memories, lashing out without warning.
They come, unwanted and unbidden from the deepest shadows of myself. Each seeking cracks and chips in the walls I have erected. And when they find them, those monsters push through, splitting open any last line of defense I may have had, and for your careless actions, I am the one to suffer.
I am the one who must quell these raging beasts before they begin to damage the world around me to a point that I can no longer fix. And yet you stand there, raining blow after blow down on what few defenses I still have. And my howls of anger and pain call to the other monsters inside, the ones who had laid dormant. But now they smell blood and they see the daylight spilling through the holes you made and they, too, wish now to rush forward to destroy what they can. To leave me broken and bleeding in their wake as I try to hold them back, this barrage of beasts, before they can get close enough to eat you.
The wars I fight every day are wars you will never see. You will never know the strength I spend so that you don’t perish. You who so carelessly knocks chinks into my armor. You who unknowingly tempts the beasts awaiting, hidden among my blood veins. You will never realize the things you have done.