Dear me, when one door closes, another opens.
Its the pain that follows that swallows my emotions.
Sleepless nights, shaken and soaking,
It’s those who love me are picking up what’s left broken.
I’ve fought my hardest to stay alive,
I’ve considered my options; on how to survive.
It takes strength and power, something I’ve not got.
The more I fail, the tighter the knot.
As my days gloom and they pass with caution,
It pains me more, as they appear far more often.
I’m scared, panicking, shaking and feeling worthless,
I lay back and gaze to the stars, as I lay on the cold ground surface.
I try and plan my days as normal, trying to fit in with today’s society,
It’s difficult pretending and fronting a smile, when really deep inside I’m suffering with anxiety.
Whats going on? What do I have left? With all these questions getting me annoyed.
Hopeless I feel, and looking back, I cannot help, but feel paranoid.
I’d often question, is this real or is it just an obsession.
After assessments, it was confirmed, my diagnosis is manic depression.
I have my bad days, yet some good, despite what I have, my life seems a mess.
Yet another assessment and another diagnosis, I’ve another disorder, post traumatic stress.
Thoughts keep coming and going, telling my mind as if i’m a hoarder.
A Psychiatrist and I and communal decision, a new diagnosis, i’ve got a personality disorder.
If it was as easy as 1,2,3, i’d love to stand tall and continue to be me, smiling, laughing and full of realness.
Yet with my imagination going wild, in reality what I’m fighting is a mental health illness.
People will talk and those will judge me,
I try my dampest to improve my life, but I can only do that to a certain degree.
Dosed with medication an wishing change would happen sooner,
I’d love nothing more, but to be able to focus more on my future.
I feel lost, stolen, empty and alone
To those who don’t understand; it’s difficult to see past the zone.
It’s not something to play with nor take advantage off, it’s not something I want to keep to my myself.
It’s a hidden disease and easy to see past, it’s easy to silently forget; but the world needs to know, to take good care of they’re own mental health.
– James Keenan