Broken

Non compos mentis..

Sometimes I feel as though people with mental illness are on the right track.

Let me explain.

When this world depresses us and our bones ache for the happiness that we’re convinced we’ll never feel because this world isn’t a happy place. We’d rather escape in fairy tales. We’d rather stay in the dark than smile in the light of explosions and breathe in the fresh smoke of chemicals.

When we become overwhelmingly anxious at the thought of meeting someone new. Because people with the calmest smile are only waiting until we have our back turned. A panic in a crowd because uncertainty has become dangerous.

Is a hypocrite one who is happy in today’s world?

Because how can you be happy in today’s world?

So appears someone who is depressed at life. Weak. Broken. Broken into fragments of glass. Yet, the mark of life’s truth is found in the mind of someone assigned with a mental disorder. We become broken if we show the strength that it takes to see the world for what it is.

Yet, you are strong when you are too weak to escape your bubble. When you spend your days and your money without a care for anything or anyone outside of your comfort zone. With your days only remembered half of the time; with stone-cold reactions to the news; without a blink to the person asking for help; with currency as your bib and with a remorseless existence. And you are the normal one.


Hello, lovely reader. I’ve missed a day of Bedia..twas bound to happen. I would recommend you don’t take this one too literally. This came from a corner of insanity in my clouded mind.

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