Mental Illness, My Life Is Not Yours


I notice you most when I am alone
Like most, I find you have been masquerading around my cheerful days.
Just when I think you’ve disappeared completely,
You’ve already climbed your way back in.

Look what you’ve done to me.
Do you like what you see?
This shell of a person I never thought I would be.

My conscious moves in circles around each conversation, every word.
You see what you’re doing to me?
You scowl, you shake, you don’t want to leave.

You take my hand and drag me to this place I can’t leave.
You snicker in the corner, as I attempt foolheartedly to gather my things.
I take my strides with confidence, as I head toward the door.
It’s so close. I can feel the air,
Seeping through the crack where it breaks from the floor.
My hand reaches out to turn the knob, only to find it’s no longer there.

I turn on my heels and find you there,
Reaching for me like a comforting friend, ready and willing to welcome me back in.
I begin to ask why but you’ve already begun
Your brigade of my sins and the Hell I’m in.

“You’re no good.”
“You’re damaged, my friend.”
“No one could ever love the thoughts in your head.”
“You’ll never recover.”
“Just curl up in bed.”
“Take your life from their hands.”

I beg and plead that you let me go free.
My life is yours, so you let me believe.
I’ve broken this curse you’ve brought down on me!

I run.
I sprint.
I drive gallantly.
I’m in a world where sun shines vibrantly.

The light hits my shoulders.
My life is not yours.
I am free of you now and will never return.

I am good.
I am happy.
I am free.
You will never find me.


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