My entire existence revolves around secrets. My smile is a mask that I wear so that you won’t start to wonder what is really going on with me. My treatment is a secret because you cannot bear the idea that I am not the picture of perfection as you have imagined.
You could not possibly understand the amount of pain I have been in, and somehow that only makes the pain worse.
To be unable to express pain is a terrible thing. To be forced to suffer in silence day in and day out is a horrible experience. I hate to admit that my secrets have driven me to the brink of madness my love.
You see my scars but you accept my excuses. You feel my emotional detachment but you do nothing to help me. You see my love it is tearing me apart.
I cannot possibly begin to tell you how it feels to be in my mind. The sad reality is that if I let you in on my maddening secret, I fear you might just go mad along with me.
I am alone in my struggle, I am alone in my fight.
Sometimes I feel okay, almost normal. But the thoughts always creep back in when I am at my lowest points. The happiness is never here for long. The sadness, the anger, the grief; these are the emotions that I feel.
To be numb might be a blessing; maybe then I would not feel so out of control. But they say that feeling pain is better than feeling nothing; for nothingness is no existence at all. But I will never know the difference because numb is something that I am not.
The only thing I know for sure is that those secrets will drive you mad, my love. These secrets will drive you mad.