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17/18


I shall live on a beautiful farm I am sure of that. There will be breeze running through my hair and eyelashes every morning and night.
Whatever. She was never sure of anything. She tried to break all the rules even the ones she made. She always said to herself “I am going to be free even more than the birds.” You can never understand how I want to break free from my body from my soul. She thought that she was a prisoner not only of her parents and of society but of her emotions as well. She cried, she cried, she laughed. Those years when she was in high school are blank. She does not remember them. Her parents, her family thought she was on drugs. They searched her room for some illegal shit, but they never found a single one. It was the disease what made her like that. Bipolar later turned out to Borderline mixed with Bipolar, Anxiety Disorder, PTSD, Panic Disorder, Depression, Eating Disorder. Maybe none of them has existed and she was just being herself. She was just different, and they could not accept that difference and made her feel like a weirdo. Perhaps they were the ones the reason she felt outcasted all the time. Maybe there was nothing wrong with her. If there was enough love within them. Not only towards her but themselves as well.
It was the constant fights, conflicts between the decisions of fitting to their rules and staying loyal to her personality. Between the thoughts of being loyal, thankful to them and of being loyal to herself and fulfilling her potential. Was it just a delusion? Can’t I be more of what they tell me I can be?
In one of my oldest writings, it says, “ You are giving me what I want but not what I need.” I knew that what I want, and I need were different but I obviously did not know what were they. And I kept asking what came to my mind. To be honest, they did not give what I want as well. They gave me what they want. The proper one should have been “You keep giving me what you want but not we need.” Such a heart-breaking story indeed. Now I am thinking, and it was they who did not comprehend such things even though there were people, there was I kept telling what was needed.
Why, why why why why why whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy they never understood? Why they never accepted? Why why why why why they never left their pride?
There she is. She does not remember her past. She was drugged with prescribed medicine while she was in high school. Lustral, Ritalin, Risperdal, Cymbalta, Lithium, Concerta and so on. Every each of them was to prevent her from cutting herself. They were not enough. She did not want to live. She did not want to survive. Survival was lonely for her. She was lonely. She was suffering. The pain inside. The pain. Thepain oh the pain. Her throat was burning. There was a flame. There was a storm. Never-ending. Ever-ending? The ants climbing up their way until they tear apart her eyes. The whites of her eyes. The pain. The sorrow. The Hollow. She was suffering. No one helped. I could not help. She could not help.
One day, she would succeed. One day she would prove that she was not a freak but a tree growing unusually. One day she thought “I am going to break all of their stigmas until they are ashamed of themselves”. One day she would not ashamed of herself.


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