And My Body Is Nature

Mentally Ill (Spoken Word)

It's worse than depression,
Because depression's pain at least let's you know you're still alive.
This, you don't know, and you aren't sure what's real,
You aren't sure if this feeling is real,
So what are you supposed to feel?

"It's like a roller coaster when you can't see the tracks,"
But then you get used to it and you'll find out that,

There are no tracks.
Just a mountain you'll never stop having to climb,
And you'll fall into rocks all the time,
And you'll cry and you'll whine,
But no one will hear you because it's a delusion.
All the confusion, you'll have a lot of it,
Medicine won't help but you'll want it,
Unless the voices tell you no.
And then things get worse,
Because you didn't take your medicine,
And they tell you never to again,
Because it's poison.
Or that you're poison,
And that's why you're growing, wildly and unkept,
On the side of a mountain you'll never surpass.

If you get stabbed by a stranger,
You're scared you'll still be walking,
Heart beating and strong,
Because the voices tell you so.
And you look at your mother,
Unsure of her face,
If she's real, or if she's fake,
And you back away with fear,
Because, dear, you don't know,
What everyone else around you does.

And what if there's an important day,
Where you decide to take your life for living this way,
And you pick up a knife you aren't sure is real,
And you try it.
What then?
Then, I tell you, no matter what,
That knife is always real,
And you shouldn't have done it,
Because I know you were scared,
That if you stab yourself,
The voices will keep you alive,
And you'll be all alone again just without blood,
And everyone else has blood,
And because you don't anymore,
You're now less than worthless; you're invisible,
And you being you couldn't take that either.

But I'm also going to tell you,
That you're neither worthless nor invisible, either way,
And this fear comes from something that doesn't exist,
Therefore your fear shouldn't exist,
And no matter what you hear,
This fear,
Is no more than what it's calling you.

What is it calling you?
Worthless?
Weak?
Waste of space?

What if it called you
Beautiful,
Happy,
Wanted?

What then would you think?
Or, what then would the voices think?
Because I know what you think,
You're only thinking,
"I know this is bad for me,
But what should I care,
If I can't tell what's real or not,
And I can't breathe warm air?"

And that's when you hallucinate again,
And you stop questioning yourself all together,
And anxiety kicks in--at least you think that's what it is,
And let me tell you--
You aren't the only one.

You aren't the only one who feels like that,
You aren't the only one who might want to die.
You aren't the only one going through this,
Or the only one who cries.
You aren't the only one who feels fear,
Because on the other side,
Of that mountain,
Is a whole society of people,
Just like you and I.

Let me tell you,
Stop trying to climb,
And walk to the side,
Just a little further,
And you'll see all the people standing right next to you,
Standing there for you,
And let me tell you, love,
They aren't a delusion.

You just have to look a little harder through the snow,
Because there is always a better place to go,
That is more real,
Than your Schizophrenia and Psychosis.

Dedicated to Franky