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I hate being sick. I feel alone and out of place no matter where I am. Who am I? Which "one" inside me is the real me? Depressed and isolated with deep emotional scars, I daydream about death. Tired. Confused. Anxious. Alone. I don't fit in. The ECT treatments leave me drained, The meds don't work. Unable to put my emotions in words, I leave the therapist frustrated again. Anger takes over. The psycosis begins. Suddently through the fractures, She emerges again, She is Medina and she sees the pain. She hates me and calls me a slut, pathetic, worthless and weak. Reality breaks which one is me? I am her or is she me? I want to be this but she wants to be that. I am a christian and I try to follow Christ, I despretly pray for forgivenss. Medina reminds me of all of my sins reminds me that forgiveness is an abstract concept that does not apply to me. I am sinner so why stop now.Medina is so beautiful and attracts much attention, but her beauty is decieving and hides what lies beneath. Medina is manevolent, selfish, violent, evil, and rude. She will pull you close only to push you away. Love is also a concept that doesn't feel real, but what is real? The pain is the only thing that seems real. I am an outcast with no circle of friends. I see other people and want to be them. I want to be accepted, loved, forgiven and populer too. Medina is so attracitve, outgoing, and confident and people gravitate toward her, but they eventully see the person beneath the foul and the ugly and they walk away. Medina hates the deep seeded wounds and wants to cover them and bury them any way or how. Medina abandons those few that have stayed and claim love to give in to any temptation that comes along. I am an addict that looks for the cure. It wasen't at the bottom of the bottle I drank, or in bluts and joints I smoked. Medina promises that drugs are the cure I just have to find one that will cover the scars. So I take this pill and that one, and it actully helps. The alcohol, pills and meth that I smoked made me feel better and part of the crowd but when it they wear off there is only more pain and debris. Medina leaves me even more bankrupt than before and I feel her hate for me as she laughs at my pain! Her motive is the death of me. So which one am I and whch one is real? Someone please help me before its too late. Tell me how to deal with the pain, heal the woulds, and let others in!!! Am I her or is she me? Could the stranger inside me really be me??
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I am thankful for laughter....except when milk comes out my nose. Woody Allen
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