I sometimes pride myself in the way I speak

The way I walk

With strength and perseverance,

Determination. 

 

People tell me,

“You are a fighter,’

Strong

Amazing

Attributes that you would give to a super hero

Not someone who has dealt with a mental illness,

But someone who has seen pain and fought back

 

I usually tell them that I am none of these things

They think its because I’m humble

When really,

 

I’m weak.

I’m nothing.

Useless

Dead inside

 

Some nights, not every night

 I cry so hard I make myself physically sick,

My body is heavy and my head is pounding

The demons are trying so desperately to break out

But I suppress it, because I can’t let it be seen.

 

Sometimes when things become too hard, my mind starts to race

And my breathing gets shaky

It hurts me to not be able to fix the situation

 

I am Strong

I am Amazing

 

Yet I cannot fix what is broken

Nor can I stop the tears that fall from my face

Why,

Why can’t I stop them?

 

I feel everything, but at the same time I feel nothing.

 

If I had the power to change one thing,

I would want to change how I saw myself

 

Because others see the embodiment of hope and life

Strength in the form of an 18-year-old girl

The one who dealt with darkness and came out fighting

 

But all I see?

An inevitable future of anxiety that things will be bad again

Awful again

 

Failure

And then what would I do?