I may talk about lots of things on this blog. However … none of you truly know me. You never see my daily reality. I have spent most of the night picking my skin. I probably have dents in my face because I’ve done it that regularly recently. I read that it can be a form of self harm. A person doesn’t know why they’re doing it. It’s not just anxiety. It’s my broken mind doing what it does best. It’s destroying me. I’m not happy. I don’t think I’ve actually been happy for years. People I have opened up to walked away and punished me for trying to hold onto them. Maybe they are broken too. Most of us don’t show our broken pieces to the world. I’m bound to be much more broken inside after what I’ve been through than even I acknowledge.
I always feel fearful because I’m scared of being dragged through similar experiences again. I feel like I’m constantly trying to hide in a corner while living my life. The me off this blog away from the public view is lost and insecure. I act tough and say exactly what I feel about any topic. I’m still fragile behind that mask. I can’t pretend that things which have happened to me didn’t cut deeply and leave permanent scars. That is the reality of the broken parts of me which I keep hidden. The vulnerable side that no one sees is part of my daily reality. Medication only makes it slightly more able to stay masked from the outside world. There are occasions when that mask falls off and I feel mentally broken.