I. Don’t. Want. To. Live. In. This. Mind.
The self destructive one.
The fraidy cat.
The delusional.
I want to be empty.
Without feeling so fucking empty.
I kept it a secret for over a decade.
I didn’t want people to look at me and think I’m a freak.
I felt so alone. So scared.
Like, people wouldn’t accept me, and they didn’t.
I wasn’t normal, and people could tell.
But, that’s in the past, I rose above it and found real people.
The voices have hindered, I still hear them. I’ve learned to decipher reality and the thoughts in my head by the reactions of others, and constant questioning, and that makes me feel better.
It’s usually when I’m alone does it come, viciously.
I’m still afraid to be alone.
I’ve adapted.
Learned.
Accepted.
And, now, I’m okay.
Last night,
In the car ride home, I saw a insect fly from outside of the car, through the windshield, and land next to me.
When, I tried to grab it, it occurred to me.
Fuck you, Brain.
You win, again.
