things broken. crying, a lot of crying. pain pain pain physical pain pain. angry at people who play at being mad but really, are fine — they’re housed, pain-free, lucid, have lots of friends, a supportive family, a steady income, they can go out of an evening or even simply walk to the local store, and the ability to look stone cold sane when they need to.
because they are.
I wish I had that luxury, of flipping my madness off like a light-switch, but it appears God cursed me;
I’m downstream braiding flowers into Ophelia’s hair, whispering my goodnights to the sweet ladies.
I don’t even have Lady Elaine’s blessing of a lovely face; nobody will ever lend me grace.
dreaming of a desk, and a shelf, and a room of my own.
I’m sure the anti-depressants will start working any minute now.
any minute now.