“She never stops complaining” I hear them all say.
But they don’t know the truth, they don’t know what’s inside.
The hurt I can’t express, the pain, the emptiness.
It’s always there, never leaving.
The medication helps. It makes me “normal”. But “normal” is numb. “Normal” feels nothing.
Normal has no reason to do anything. She is empty. No pain, but no joy.
It took my lows, but captured my highs for itself. Took them where no one could see.
Especially not me.
I try to recapture the old me, surely feeling something is better than nothing.
I whine, I complain, I turn everything negative.
I can’t bring her back.
Do I want to?
I don’t want the soul crushing pain, the wish for it all to end.
I don’t want to hate every inch of my skin, my thoughts, my being.
I just want to feel…