Where do I begin? How do I try to make you understand what it feels like to live with something that you refuse to even acknowledge exists. Something that is perhaps even more mythical than unicorns or leprechauns. Yet, I shall try; try to convey what I feel as best I can in the faint hope that at least one of you will understand. I stand in a crowd; happiness, laughter, sarcasm and wit all melding together to form a misty shield of normalcy that hovers around me shielding my own personal cloud of darkness from your view. I have good days and bad – Good days where I laugh and smile; and bad days where I can’t seem to feel anything at all. I have friends who care, and a family that loves me. Yet, on my worst days, even they can’t seem to help me. On those days, I hide and wear a mask. I clamp down on those emotions, those fears and try to go through the wooden mechanical routine actions like a puppet on strings.
There’s emptiness; there’s limbo. There is no feeling – no sadness, no joy, no anger; nothing. The distractions, the mechanical routine actions do nothing to stop the numbness that’s creeping in. I feel helpless and frozen, locked in a silent scream for help; unable to do anything until the dam bursts, the tears flow, the blade slices and the blood drips.
-Does it even matter?
(The anonymous author gave this as their pseudonym)