I go in circles from being so happy to being really miserable in five seconds flat. It's like a pool of my own thoughts and I'm just a fish.
Why am I like this? I wish I could just not feel, and just numb my emotions like an epipen or something like a heroin needle. Not that I would ever do drugs, I just feel too much. Make it stop. Can you just make it stop? The voices in my head. My own truth. Make it stop.
My scars are like my newly painted red nails that I wear. It is aesthetically pleasing, but it's just nail polish. It will grow out. Just like my thoughts will have to be cut down and painted over.
To handle my hostile mind, I can stretch and grow and shrink and expand. Make it stop.
Why do I have this gift of writing? It's a curse. Not a gift.
YOU ARE READING
Love From Me
Non-FictionA short anthology about my experiences of being a disabled person living in the 21st Century in Australia. Love From Me is about me having Cerebral Palsy and me coming to terms with it. In retrospect, for people who have known me, you know that I ne...
