The truth about mental health
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Today’s the day
I’ve exhausted all I have to say
I’ve held it in, expressed it
I even tried laughing it away.
No one can truly see it.
I hide it well, but there’s no other way
The grave will be the only clue that gives it away
Why would I disclose the pain in my soul
Or confide in someone I barely even know
Why seek unnecessary attention
When the only solution to the problem is isolation or detention
Or feed yourself enough medication that you disappear from existence, although your body remains present, people think you’re still living.
I’ve been trained and educated in all these signs…. How did I miss them?
I isolate over socializing; worried that even one person might recognize them,
the signs that I’ve hid inside,
to the point where I can’t even find.
It’s exhausting wearing this disguise
To work, home, or family and friend dinner nights
Or on the rare occasion that I feel comfortable enough to be the person I thought and believed I once was…
That feeling fades away with the buzz of every drug or substance I ingest, praying the poison will kill off the person who tries to possess my body, my soul, my flesh. Until ultimately there is nothing left. But the vessel that impersonates the remanence, the imagery of a person that did once exist.
A crisis hotline? That’s laughable…. What on earth could a stranger say to convince you that your life is valuable.
Like it’s just a response out of impulse, and you’re easily distracted by all the things others want most.
Redirected with kind words and reminders of memories encapsulated by family pictures affixed to the walls on top the fireplace mantle
In reality, it consumes you. Instead of them considering it being something that you’ve fixated on while awake or your subconscious robs you of any peace by lucidly displaying the imagery over and over again in your head.
My therapist was right, it does help to write. Now I can truly manifest what the voices are telling me I should do next.
I know, I know… Give it rest. Take your self-pity, grow-up, and stick out your chest. Be a man! Drink water, drive on. Everyone is tired of listening to this same old sad song.
This is just a poem… Imagine if something was truly going on.
Would you notice, would you be aware? Maybe stop and inquire as if you cared?
How are we all aware of such an epidemic but epically fail coming up with solutions? I’m only trying to get your mind focused on what most people this topic has alluded.
Check on your friends, co-workers, family, and the stranger at the store. NEVER presume to know their struggles or what they’re fighting for. What is life without love, or what is love without life.
I want to be better. I want us to be better.
With all the love,
Just another person