In The Eyes of the Ill

"My illness has always been a distraction, it's difficult just to do every day tasks." I say to the man. He sits in a large, probably leather chair. As I speak, he pays close attention to every word that escapes my lips. I hate this attention. "My illness doesn't take shape in our reality, but it does take shape in my vision. I see them everywhere, I hear them everywhere, and it always feels like they're out to get me." I take a deep breath, I'm getting fidgety again. I force my legs to stop moving. "I really don't see how they can help me, sir, but hell it would be a miracle."
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This story isn't meant to offend anyone, it's completely based off of my own experiences with mental illness and even other's experiences. If there is ever anything I can adjust or change, please leave a comment for I want to make this as accurate and easy to understand as possible. I think it's really important that people understand how frustrating and difficult mental illness is.