I know how it feels. Where you feel like you have no place to run anymore to get your emotions out without someone wanting you to talk about it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s so nice that people care, but I could see them getting tired of hearing it. And I guarantee I’m more tired of trying to explain things that I’ve yet to even grasp myself. I feel like all I do is complain, or feel sorry for myself. Either way I seem to feel like I’m not part of the daily things I do with people even though logically I know I am. So, I wait. I wait for everybody to go to bed so I can cry. And if I cry during the daytime, I suck it up until I get in the shower. That’s where I collapse literally. I cry so hard that I just fall. And there I am kneeling down on the shower floor with my face buried in my hands. My whole body shakes. And I know I can be heard on the outside sometimes but I just wait for it to happen. “Annie, are you ok in there?” They’d ask. And what am I supposed to say? Being under this spell of mental illness. I can’t stand how much these disorders consume me. It’s despicable that I have to plan out times to cry like I’m planning nap time for a kid. So, there was me feeding off what I could out of life for a day. Off what the daily life would bring and then binge and purge in the shower of tears. I hate it because I had no choice. Living the medicated part of a day was making me gain weight as well. I called it my demon, something was in my mind that was constantly berating me, it has to be a demon….so that’s what I called it. So after all this talk, no, really guys, living sure sounds amazing still…right?