Dry bones

11/4/11

The world is my enemy. There is nothing here for me. I have goals, a family, and I want to help people. I wish those reasons were sufficient enough to carry on. For now, they are. But what if the fear and despair become too great and takes full control over me? Then everything would be out of my willpower. It won’t be long until my friends realize how messed up I am—some already have, and this is the reason to why I avoid making friends. How the hell am I suppose to explain myself? Even if I did attempt to, they wouldn’t understand. No textbook, no psychology class will ever be able to teach you the real agony of this disease. And some will scoff at the idea that there is even such a thing. But it’s definitely real, take my word for it.