photobiscuits

I have had mental illness since I was 10. At least that is the earliest I can think of an issue. I am not saying a mental illness. What I wrote before is not a grammatical error. I did not just have one. I had a bundle at 10, that I am taking a lifetime to unpack. There are pieces I take out like anxiety or PTSD, but they are all apart of my mental illness bundle. I would like to drop these pieces and items. Leave them on the wayside as garbage or pollution for the earth. I would give almost anything to drop them aside and make them someone else's problem. But it is my bundle that for some reason was either given to me or I picked up. I was 10 years old...I didn't know what it was...I was only 10. Only 10 and making decisions that would shape the world. Damn.

I am trying to be normal, keep moving forward, and live my life. No one said it would be easy. I never assumed it would be easy. But I hoped. Deep down. Hidden in the lowest level, I hoped. And because that hope was there every step, breath, and motion... hurts.

I can see it. The end. It is right there and it scares me. I can see the end everywhere I look. I see it in my parents, my family, my friends. I can see in the flora and fauna. I can see it in the garbage that lays on the ground. I can see it in my hands, my body, my soul. The end is everywhere, I can see it. But it won't be the end that kills me. My fears, my anxieties, my negligence. These will kill me. I hope I am not too late to reform.