broken pieces

Letter from your mental illnesses

Hi, I am Anxiety.

Cousin of depression,

Sister of panic attacks and OCD,

Those things that no one else understands, or at least that's what we tell you.

We are those things keeping you locked up in your room,

Afraid of saying the wrong thing, worried of what everyone will think.

I am anxiety, the reason you can't handle social situations,

The reason that you begin shaking when people ask too many questions.

I help you dig your nails in to your hands when you are trying to not explode,

When those unthinkable thoughts are rushing through your head,

But you don't understand any of them because it's all too much.

I am those sleepless nights, that bring you to the bathroom,

Bang your head on the wall, and make you want to scream,

Stopping you from breathing, making you feel like throwing up.

But don't worry, we aren't alone.

I also brought depression.

Hi, I am depression.

Or in your case, Dysthymia,

The reason you wear winter clothes in summer,

I am the scars on your body that you are so ashamed of,

But at the same time cannot live without.

I am the reason you want to be alone,

I am those unexplained tears,

Those moments of numbness.

I am the reason that in the best moments,

You still can't be happy,

I am the reason you write those goodbye letters,

What stops you from becoming close to people,

Because that way no one is left behind.

Hi, I am OCD.

I am the one that is least understood,

Although everyone claims me.

They think I am cool, they underestimate my powers.

Along with anxiety, I am the cause of panic attacks.

I am the one that wants to lock you in a dark, silent room,

So that none of your senses can be bothered.

I am the reason you take so long to do everything,

I embarrass you, while everyone else forms those opinions,

You know I am unrealistic, but those intrusive thoughts are not worth the risk.

I am PTSD,

Forgotten to be mentioned because no one would believe I am here,

You haven't gone through enough to have me, yet you still do.

I am those blank spaces in your memory,

The reason you cannot trust people.

I made you forget how to do anything free of worry.

We are your just a few of your mental illnesses,

Those things that no one understands,

Those things they give you medication for,

The reason that you would much rather be dead than face all of this shit.