I’m trying it all.
The talking, the feeling,
The breathing through the burn.
The writing, the crying,
The silence that I yearn.
People say that I’m strong,
That I’m worth the fight.
But their words can’t get through,
Through the endless night.
I smile when I’m supposed to, joke like I know.
Pressure to feel better, to keep up the show.
But I’m breaking so quietly.
Behind closed eyes and doors,
Each day feels more like I’m losing some more.
I’m scared that time is not on my side,
That this pain will win,
It’s too practiced to hide.
I want to believe them.
I must.
I care.
But what if I can’t ever let them in there.
A daily journal of my 30-days as an inpatient at the a mental health hospital