There lies, in between, so much that is left unseen.
This matter between my ears.
This matter behind my eyes.
This internal hell trapped by the confines of my skull.
Yet nicely covered so the world doesn’t see.
A collection of broken pieces.
#mosaic
I look in the mirror but I am unable to see.
What happened to me?
Where am I?
Who am I?
When will I return?
Who is the person behind my eyes?
I am just a shell.
I am not what you see.
There is so much more to me.
#blind
There are sounds all around me, but I am unable to hear.
Why are they not aware?
I’m silently screaming.
I open my mouth but no words escape.
The voice you could hear is silenced by the voice within.
What you tell me is passed through a filter of self hate.
Everything seems so loud.
The traffic as I approach the street.
The dog panting after a run outside.
This internal hell makes even the silence seem loud.
#mutenotdeaf
Incessant running but never a race won.
Is success possible?
I move about in a hectic way.
I spend so much time running from myself.
Trying to escape myself, to break free from me.
It’s the only way to stay alive.
Time is not in my favor.
The statistics are not promising.
#outoftime
A one person game of hide and seek.
To remain hidden but never sought.
Will they ever ask?
Do they want to find me?
Do they notice I am missing?
I stay out of sight.
I remove myself.
It is only a matter of time.
Somebody will eventually notice that I am missing.
Or will they?
They don’t ask.
They must not care.
My life does not matter.
Physically present but a million miles away.
#herebutnothere
An emotional state that can not be recovered.
An intuitive understanding of destruction.
Will I ever be able to find my way?
Can the lost be found?
Can what has been destroyed be rebuilt?
Is there hope?
I am confused as much as I confuse others.
Will it ever be easy to understand?
Will I ever perceive the pain as real?
Will anybody ever understand me?
Will I ever perceive the intended meaning of this hell?
To keep fighting,
can the battle be won?
I may win a fight but I can’t help but wonder, am I losing the battle?
#lost
Author Bio:
Rachel Van Deusen is surviving with a mental illness and still searching to find a way she can not just survive but thrive. Writing helps is one of her main outlets. The writing of others have helped her to feel less alone during difficult times. She hopes hers may do the same.
This matter between my ears.
This matter behind my eyes.
This internal hell trapped by the confines of my skull.
Yet nicely covered so the world doesn’t see.
A collection of broken pieces.
#mosaic
I look in the mirror but I am unable to see.
What happened to me?
Where am I?
Who am I?
When will I return?
Who is the person behind my eyes?
I am just a shell.
I am not what you see.
There is so much more to me.
#blind
There are sounds all around me, but I am unable to hear.
Why are they not aware?
I’m silently screaming.
I open my mouth but no words escape.
The voice you could hear is silenced by the voice within.
What you tell me is passed through a filter of self hate.
Everything seems so loud.
The traffic as I approach the street.
The dog panting after a run outside.
This internal hell makes even the silence seem loud.
#mutenotdeaf
Incessant running but never a race won.
Is success possible?
I move about in a hectic way.
I spend so much time running from myself.
Trying to escape myself, to break free from me.
It’s the only way to stay alive.
Time is not in my favor.
The statistics are not promising.
#outoftime
A one person game of hide and seek.
To remain hidden but never sought.
Will they ever ask?
Do they want to find me?
Do they notice I am missing?
I stay out of sight.
I remove myself.
It is only a matter of time.
Somebody will eventually notice that I am missing.
Or will they?
They don’t ask.
They must not care.
My life does not matter.
Physically present but a million miles away.
#herebutnothere
An emotional state that can not be recovered.
An intuitive understanding of destruction.
Will I ever be able to find my way?
Can the lost be found?
Can what has been destroyed be rebuilt?
Is there hope?
I am confused as much as I confuse others.
Will it ever be easy to understand?
Will I ever perceive the pain as real?
Will anybody ever understand me?
Will I ever perceive the intended meaning of this hell?
To keep fighting,
can the battle be won?
I may win a fight but I can’t help but wonder, am I losing the battle?
#lost
Author Bio:
Rachel Van Deusen is surviving with a mental illness and still searching to find a way she can not just survive but thrive. Writing helps is one of her main outlets. The writing of others have helped her to feel less alone during difficult times. She hopes hers may do the same.
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