Freedom of Expression

Pitch-black darkness in the moment before I open my eyes; a cool breeze dances across my skin. I can smell a mix of perfume scents that hit my nose. The aroma is strong, soft and sweet. I decide to open my eyes slowly; the bright light is blinding at first as my eyes adjust to the overwhelming colors. Rose's spanning so many different colors brightly shown with beautiful green leaves coding their stems. A row of fragrant hyacinths; soft pink, pastel yellow, brilliant purple, and bright white; with a row of sweet tulips and yellow cheery daffodils growing tall and strong behind them. There are bright orange tiger lilies bursting through the ground tall and almost glowing. sunflowers stretching towards the Sun slowly spreading the sunny yellow petals. gerberas scatter the ground below; lovely bright colors standing past the long and lovely leaves. wonderful and wild wildflowers scatter the ground below me mixed with the sweet Kentucky bluegrass. behind me are the pastel hydrangeas with a fluffy cloud texture. my eyes taking in the wondrous sight around me; however the thing about everything beautiful is that beauty never lasts forever. 

I am the last one standing among the crimson field. Shining silver armour yesterday; morning is now scratched and worn; covered with blood from both friend and foe. As I gaze at my feet the horrors of the battle lay all around me and as far as my eyes can reach. Bodies filled with life; lay motionless and breathless. The mist which covers the bloody moor gives an eerie peace where just moments ago swords clashed and blood was drawn. I think of this battle thats’ end lay before me and ponder if it was worth this. We were never told why we were called to battle; all I know is my King commanded me to go; so I did. 

I feel my wounds may not allow me to leave this bloody moor and I may be counted among the dead. I realize too suddenly that this is the last sky and morning rose  I’ll be permitted to observe. I drop my helmet to the ground and the loud clunk and rattle it makes fills the deafening silence. I lean on my sword covered in blood; planted firmly in the ground; to gaze at my last morning glow. The sunlit cheery yellow shines as the powder blue sky hosts a dance of pink, purple, and orange. They dance happily among the clouds unaware of the battlefield below. My knees buckle under me and my armour rattles as they hit the ground. I set my eyes to the morning rise only to see another knight high upon his horse.

This knight's armour was black without a blemish; his shield carried no emblem or Klan. The black knight carried no sword but wielded a synth. The sight of the black knight may have scared lesser men, but not I, for I know the name of this black knight. His snow white horse trots across the misty and bloody moor; it comes toward me; its black eyes fixed firmly at me. The black knight and his white horse stand quietly before me and I recognize and make peace with my end. I silently nod my head and close my eyes; I hear the knights’ synth swing...

The last knight collapsed to the ground; the black knight on his white horse rode off to claim the next soul; for his name was Death and his work was never done.

I’m supposed to let you see all my dark and twisted places? I can’t, I’m sorry but I can’t. I wish I could, but you’d never understand. I’ve got all these labels and I'd get all those looks too if i told you. I told someone I was off my meds and they asked if I was “Fixed”? NO, I’m not “fixed” I don’t know how to get “fixed” I'm not even convinced I can be. My therapist and psychologist try, and no matter how sure or hopeful they seem, nothing really works. “Fixed”, what would that even look like, to be “fixed”? I don’t think it's possible and because of its impossibility I feel like I can't let you in. If I let you in to see my dark and twisty places the facade I so carefully built will fall apart. If you saw me as I really am, I’d never be called high functioning again. The truth is I’m not high functioning, it's all a lie…

I’m good at lying, it's surprisingly easy to fool someone. People are gullible, and the more someone wants to believe the lie you're selling the more likely they are to believe you, and thus the more gullible they are. I may not be able to face you and tell the truth, but here between the keyboard and myself it seems easier. However, before I speak the truth my list of lies should be exposed, I suppose…

I’m Fine

I’m Good

Therapy Helps

I’m getting Better

The meds are Working

I’m High Functioning

I’m not Suicidal today

I don’t blame myself

I feel comfortable with who i am

I’m not Lonely

I don’t need help

I don't need Space

I feel Loved

I guess you deserve the truth now. I'm rarely fine and I'm never good, my mind is always working against me all day everyday. Therapy doesn't really work and no the fucking meds don’t fucking work ether so stop asking. I’m not getting better, I can feel myself getting worse. I talk 95m/h, I read who knows how many comics/books and an exponential amount of TV and movies all to get the evil Jiminy Cricket to quiet the fuck down. He’s never completely quiet, I can always kind of hear him rather it's a whisper or scream, he’s always there. He’s always telling me about how I should be dead or how I shouldn't have even been born. He talks all day everyday and I don't get a reprieve from his daily trade. If I hold a bottle of painkillers it takes so much to ignore him telling me to “take them all” or to not jump should I cross a bridge. Thousands of those little whispers cross my mind every week and I hate to say this but I don't just always ignore them. I look into things, I know how many 500mg capsules of acetaminophen I have to take to kill myself according to my height and weight. Out of the 4 bridges I have access to, none of them will kill me outright, however on the 2 at A. St. If I wait for a train or heavy traffic my attempt will be more successful. The other 2 overlooking the river, if I wait for winter and high overrun I'll most likely freeze to death. I know you don't want to know I think about this but I do, I think about it a lot. I’m most definitely not high functioning, I can barely take care of myself and the only days I do take care of myself are the days I have to work and when I get home from work my anxiety I pushed down all day comes flooding up and takes over. I keep you all at arms length because no matter how much I love you I can't afford to trust you. Trusting you is a risk I can't afford to take. I may feel lonely and I may need help but I'm not asking you because I can't risk the fallout of trusting you. I feel guilty because I love you and it makes me feel so uncomfortable in my own skin it feels like it's falling off. I sometimes think it would be better to be a drug addict to be honest because yeah their lives suck but they don't always have to live in reality and what i wouldn't give not to live here either. Out of all that though the worst thing is how much I can't feel the love you give me. I know you love me just as much as I love you but I can't feel it in return. I know that's not fair to you, but I can't do anything about it either. So, there is the truth you wanted, I think it means I’m still probably broken. Sorry for the Inconvenience!

Sincerely,