Insignificant

Here’s the thing they don’t tell you about living with a mental illness, in order for everyone else to be happy, you have to be unhappy.

I say this because I can’t express my moods or explain my disorder without someone rolling their eyes, or telling me to suck it up. I can’t be moody or take a time out to find the gray without someone telling me I’m overreacting. I can’t talk about my disorder without someone telling me I’m using it as a crutch.

The truth of the matter is, I don’t process things the same way that most people do. Unfortunately this causes problems because the majority of people don’t care about that, they only care that they don’t like how I handle things and then they chastise me for being different. As if I control it.

No matter how I try to explain my disorder, I run into this same problem every time. I started writing my blog because I hoped it would bring awareness. Then I realized nobody reads this. It’s just my insignificant little journal.

This could be a suicide note, and nobody would know because nobody will read it. Just like how I have to find my gray, and nobody knows that I never had it.

 

*This is not a suicide note.

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