Surprising I got more support for my short story on FB than here. I thought those of us who get it, would understand the story more. Whatever. Nobody reads this shit anyways.
The anxiety between the get together and my mother’s cataract surgery is starting to get to me. I’m literally having to take it day by day. Can’t think beyond today or I’ll get overwhelmed.
I just want to disappear into my house and never come out. Except for food and therapy. There’s a drop in and I want to go. Probably will. But I doubt the Marvin in me will enjoy it.
LIFE DON’T TALK TO ME ABOUT LIFE
I should be very happy about my story being published. But I kinda feel like it’s not legit. Like they just needed a story to finish off their publication and threw mine in, mistakes and all.
Two other publications declined it because it wasn’t what they were looking for, “I GUESS NOT!”
No one wants reality anymore. No one wants to read about the mentally ill unless it’s “HAPPY”. There’s nothing fucking happy about existing with this shit.
But we make due. We have happy moments and those are the ones we have to hold onto.
Just shovel us back into the sanitariums and forget us again. You practically are doing that again.
What’s my audience? People. People who want to understand the truth. The reality of mental illness.
Yeah. I guess that makes two people. Me and my friend.
IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN MY STORY HERE’S A LINK TO THE ORIGINAL POST.