why is this the realist thing ever

i wish that i could explain the feeling that comes with having a mental illness. the complete inability to control your thoughts, emotions, and even actions sometimes. i wish i could accurately put into words what it feels like to feel like a stranger to yourself. the pure amount of effort it takes me to get out of bed some mornings. i wish i could tell someone how mutilated my skin is most days. how bruised my knuckles are. or how heavy my heart is. i wish i could tell you how alone i feel. how much i am hurting. but at the same time i feel nothing. it makes no sense to me. so how could it possibly make sense to anyone else. it feels like my mind is attacking itself. i keep smiling. and i keep saying i’m fine. because i can’t even think about where i would start to try to explain to someone how not okay i really am. mental illness is ruining my life. and those are the only words i can find to try to explain it.

having someone who can handle all your moods is such a blessing

You know what’s really hot? Not having to guess someone’s feelings or intentions

there she goes again being over dramatic and by she i mean me