existence.

"Sad stuff makes beautiful poetry, but it's not so pretty to live with." [-Merecat]
*For the Dear Diary Competition*
(I recommend anything beyond 'Tumbling Ash' for the rest is a mess of nonsense words that hold no character, no story and absently fill the page)

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87. Deadly Truth

 

 

Today the sombre clouds drifted down to line the hills of the park and from behind burst

a vivid outline of fading orange that lit the sky coloured tinted blue

and I noticed just how beautiful the winter could be

with it's frost-bitten blades of grass and morning sun that burns like the head of a lollipop stick

in the air.

 

I feel sick with the feeling of constant denial and self-doubt

of many things that make my stomach feel like a collapsing ocean of never-ending misery.

 

I tell myself that this diary is pointless

that no one wants to read about the colour of the sky or how my day was because my life is

a messy waste,

but I continue writing because this swallowing pit of depression must be spoken about.

 

I am not giving up on letting mental illness shrivel and hide in the corner as if it were

a shy demon because

it must be spoken about,

and if this diary means someone may at least understand a small amount of my emotions and

the feelings of those struggling with me,

that is the best thing ever.

 

Because the twisted creatures that blacken my brain and shred my heart

will not be hidden by a mask of sanity,

because the waterfalls of tears that collect on the sodden sheet of my bed

will not dry out un-noticed,

because the blissful idea of the medicine cabinet or the traffic or a noose

will not control me like a stripped puppet,

because anybody suffering with any mental disorder is worth more than a

NHS page.

 

They are worth more than a class powerpoint stamped with a B and disregarded,

they are worth more than hyperventilating in the consuming dark of the early morning,

they are worth more than a Wikipedia page filled with endless paragraphs,

they are worth more than an insensitive mutter of 'it'll be okay'

because okay is make-believe.

 

Okay is a dreamy fairytale where the princess is replaced by a regular teenager

and the prince is replaced by a person that cares

and the castle is a home where they feel safe

and they are not the damsel in distress but instead the hero that feels like he

fits his armour in the end.

 

Because everybody,

no matter who you are or where you're from,

deserves to have their own armour that feels like it fits.

 

-26th September 2015

 

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