This is how I feel when you stumble over naming the illness or skirt around the edge of mentioning what’s going on –
And, this is how I feel when you hurry over any reference, or skate over the subject – when it comes up in conversation – as if the words haven’t been said –
Like I’m only half there.
When decency forbids discussion (because what would they think matters more than what I am feeling) and stiff upper lip reigns supreme (because I should just get a grip on myself), it hurts –
That my pain is negated and it’s more important that I perform a role.
And, when we don’t talk about “the problem” because we must pretend to be “normal”, it makes me want to –
It’s hard to challenge centuries of mis-perception but I’d like to start by handing back a little of the –
Which belongs to you – and not me; because, after years of lying about my past and hiding in generalisations, I’ve decided that it’s take me as I am.
And, the judgement –
Which I do not subscribe to, and I’m not prepared to maintain; because I’m not sure that we’re qualified to decide who meets the mark – and who doesn’t.
The hurt –
Is something I’ll be replacing with pity because it is caused by your ignorance; and, I don’t want it to hit you back, should you suffer a similar pain.
And the anger –
I’ll let go of; because, I understand that the illusion is yours – and not mine – and that the pretence is for you –
And does not belong to me.