Hi, I’m Mentally Ill

but Is this actually a surprise?  I mean were you not able see past my fake smiles, my fake laughs and the fake face I put on each and everyday.

Good, then they have served their purpose.

Hi, I’m mentally ill. I mean you can really never tell who's mentally ill because they are normally the kindest, sweetest and most caring people you will ever meet. I haven't met another mentally ill person who does not fit all of these qualities and then some.

Hi, I’m mentally ill and my illness presents itself in so many different ways. I’m loud when I want to be heard and I’m quiet when I know that my voice doesn't matter anymore. I’m always screaming for someone to notice that I’m slowly dying where I stand but no one cares enough to look my way.

Hi, I’m mentally ill and what would happen if we treated physical illness like we treated mental illness. What if laughter and crying in shame switched how people were treated.

Yes, there are days where I forget I’m ill. I’m so high and happy that I can't ever see myself sad. Yet, the following day presents with so many dark clouds, sadness, and disappointment I can't even stand to look at myself in the mirror because I’m so ashamed of the woman I’ve become. I can't look my parents in the eyes, text my friends, focus on my homework, fake a smile, and I’d rather die than show my face in public.

Hi, I’m mentally ill and I can recall the day I sat on my bed and watched death look at me, shake his head and walk out of the room when all I wanted was for him to finally take me with him. It was like looking through a pair of binoculars and only seeing your worst nightmare.

Hi, I’m mentally ill, and I wear my illness each and every day but not in the form of scars and wounds showcased on my flesh, but as a tattoo. A reminder that art can come out of each and every day. Art and beauty can escape the fires of hell. I wear my illness proudly. I wear it like it a gold metal in the olympics or an ‘A’ on a math test.

This is the world through my eyes. It’s is not for the weak, it’s for the strong. It’s for those who have been pushed through so much that they can't tell the difference between it and the truth. You can’t see the world the way I do, but if you did, you’d be scared. You’d think that I’ve never known happiness, truth, or anything that would make the powerpuff girls because I’m the chemical X.

You know what though, I’m proud of myself. I’ve made it this far, so why would I turn back now? Why let my demons beat me? Why let people’s words, opinions, and judgements pierce my skin?

I enjoy living. I enjoy smiling. I enjoy doing the things that make me happy, the things that make me, well, me. I don't need to make the cheer team, or get straight A’s, or have a million friends to be happy. There are other things to make me happy.

I’m not different, broken, used up, or dull. I’m not dead, burned out, or weak. I’m perfect. I’m beautiful. I’m strong. I’m free. I’m alive. I’m finally able to breathe.

Isn't that enough?