It’s hard to tell the truth. But here’s my version. Within each statement is a simple truth, just how I feel. If you think that this is how I’m projecting my relapse – you couldn’t be more wrong. I would have never posted this a year ago, or hell, even a month ago. I don’t think I could’ve even gotten myself to write this. I know these aren’t great sunshiny feelings but they’re my feelings and I’m working on them. This isn’t a call for help. I’m proud of myself, and I’m proud of how far I’ve come. I can’t believe I’m including a picture of myself in this. I hate having my picture taken but I think it’s important for me to realize that I am a part of others’ memories and that they actually love me. Thank you for being a part of my journey, I wouldn’t be here without everyone’s love and support.

Here are my truths.

 

I am nineteen.

I have accomplished nothing.

 

I like writing.

But I am not good at it.

 

I have had my heart broken twice.

I’m scared to fall in love again.

 

I don’t like it when strangers look at me.

I think they’re mentally stripping me.

 

I’ve been taking sleeping pills every night for the past month.

Because when it gets too late at night, I want to hurt myself.

 

I miss my father a lot.

But I still remember the belt he used to strike me with.

 

I love reading.

I need to escape. I need to forget.

 

I paint my nails often.

Because if I look put together, no one can tell that I’m falling apart.

 

I like getting sick.

Because having the flu is a better excuse for me to stay in bed than depression.

 

I have recurring nightmares of drowning.

I’m scared of the disappointment I feel when I wake up.

 

I’m always sunshine and rainbows.

Because if I’m not, no one will like me.

 

I don’t like it when people tell me to shut up.

It’s taken me a while to find my voice. 

 

I intend to keep it.