United States
43° 37' 25.0356" N, 71° 37' 49.5876" W

The don't understand my illness.
They ask "why aren't you better yet?
You have so many friends,
you're not poor. There's no reason for this"!
It's not about that though,
it's not about that at all.
Who you are don't have anything to do with that.

My illness is like an ocean,
it's never ending and it's deep.
The waves crash, and crash over me.
They drag me down, and fill my lungs, and I go under.
And no amount of friends or personality or money
can stop an ocean.

Guide that inspired this poem: 



I love your poem and I know exactly what you mean- none of my "friends" understand my illness at all. I have schizophrenia and bipolar disorder and the stigma is just unbelievable! Everyone thinks we should be able to snap out of it-dont I wish it was that simple!

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