Confined to my apartment, going out is hell, I have a place to go where there are other people with mental health diagnoses, but like when that’s you’re life…and that’s only three days a week. All I want is to wake up one morning in a world that makes sense and in which I’m not tormented daily. If just someone to go for walks with, a few friends to sit down and play a game of settlers of katan with.
I’m not any of these things…I feel like I didn’t even stand a chance, born right into the hands of madness. It’s like the things I’m called, these things are what the people who did this to me are. I’ve always thought of myself as an intuitive person who connected to others easier on a deeper more personal level than the usual more comfortable to others superficial, but now I feel I have no idea, no iota of a concept of what the experience of those around me actually is. I’ve been watching a lot of documenteries and having brief sobbing fits.