Mental illness is a word with so much stigma and stigma associated with violence instead of alliance, a stigma associated with guns and terror. I say I’m sick and your body automatically runs away. I deserve love too and I deserve a chance too. But I’m shot down during every social interaction and your reaction is a laugh, a snigger and a snicker but my skin isn’t growing any thicker. I’m just as human as you and just as pure as you. The only difference is, I hear voices that you don’t. But when I mention this your mouth slams. The other day I heard the neighbours were spying on me. I could hear their whispers through the cracks of the door. Don’t tell me this is all in my imagination, this is real or that is what I think it is. Yes I agree, my thoughts are​ disorganized, muddled up, confused and chaotic. But maybe, maybe there isn’t a difference, maybe you and I are more alike than you know.
Remember that time when your grandmother passed away and all you felt was sadness, well multiply that by every day of the rest of your life and you’ll know how I feel. You’ll say it’s unreal but believe it’s not.
All I want is for you to stand up with me, for you to man up with me and to understand my daily struggle. It’s not a joke and I’m not looking for trouble, this is my life.
As for my formers, they were treated like Lab rats but as for me, well I’m doped up with medication without a doctor’s hesitation and all those voices are hushed now, my crippling depression is in control now and my anxiety has now diminished. And now I’m probably what you could call normal but that label is up to you. But despite all of this I think I’m a stronger person than you.

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