I have a suspicion as to why I am like I am.
Why my mental state is always a fucking mess.
I thought it was just who I was, and how my life is.
But I realize that I have a lot of good things in my life.
I have always wondered why I just can’t appreciate them.
Why do I still feel hopeless after great nights,
why do I feel like death would be a gift I had always wished for?
Could there be a reason as to why my brain is torturing me all the time?
Maybe I am not fucked up, or maybe I just truly am, but now I have a word for it?
It will be proven soon. I am taking action.
I am afraid, but I am not alone. I have talked to someone about it.
Not to those closest to me, but I don’t want to worry them yet.
When I figure it out, then I can go to them. Confess that there is an explanation.
I hope there is one. It would make my life easier to handle.
But what if I have to take medicine? I am fearing that the most.
That I am more damaged than what I thought I was.
It’s not just a suspicion anymore. I am sure.
Now let’s see if it’s true.