1. Last year the doctor told me that this kind of sadness is inherited. That they have discovered that sometimes it skips a generation. That the darkness inside me did not grow from nowhere it came from somewhere. I thought to myself, that there is a reason why I have always thought my heart was an attic where I hid pieces of myself. Pieces no one ever wanted.
2. The first boy I ever chose to show this sadness to decided to take it from my attic heart and planted it inside my soul instead. It was easy for him. My soul was a garden I showed him too soon. And he decided that meant he was allowed to take anything he wanted to.
3. Every man who has dared to love me since, has stared at this dark ivy covered soul like it is a haunted house, and I have never tried to explain the thing I have always known. Because men do not have to learn how to open their own selves and lock themselves up again. They are taught to be themselves and the world will accept them better that way. We are taught to break our bodies to be loved. We are taught to confuse sex and love.
4. I knew a girl whose father left her and she took all of her love for him and ate it to comfort herself. People joked how she lived in the kitchen. No one saw her tears when she ate.
5. A friend once told me that she locked herself inside the closet when her parents fought because her father beat her mother and she wished herself into the wood, just so she knew what it was like to be an inanimate object that couldn’t hear or feel anything.
6. My mother told me, that it is the way of the world for girls to grow into women by locking secrets inside themselves. Till now I still imagine every woman I have ever met as a big beautiful house. Full of secret rooms, hiding places, once filled with innocent laughter and joy. Now slightly sad and forgotten because of all those lost places inside them full of secrets.
Was he born with a bird head? Or did it develop later like quirks tend to? (Like just imagine that this preschooler wakes up one day and his head has transformed into a bird head) Is it related to his quirk? Like is it somehow beneficial for him to have a bird head? Do people ever act like it’s weird that he has a bird head? Or are animal heads typical enough that no one thinks anything about it? Is it hard to get dates if you have a bird head? Does he have any other bird features? Does he have any specific dietary restrictions that come from eating with a beak? Was it hard for him to learn how to enunciate certain words with a beak? How does he feel about the fact that his head is a bird head?
I found someone who loved me like he was afraid to lose me and it was real. He made me laugh, smile and cry; and taught me how to see the goodness inside of me I had long forgotten existed.
He listened to me talk for hours and told stories of his past and things that frightened him because he trusted me enough to know that I’d take his secret to my grave. He was right. It was so damn real and he loved me and I loved him back passionately; but it didn’t last cause he loved me, just not enough.
From time to time it still pains me to think that years down the lane his face won’t be the one I wake up to.
But darling, pain teaches you lessons, makes you stronger than ever before and I’ve learnt to find comfort in the lessons taught to me.
It taught me things about love and truth but mostly myself;
I am a deeply unhappy person who constantly needs someone to have my back when my thoughts turn into raging storms.
No, it wasn’t his fault that he left after realising the intensity of darkness inside of me but it was his fault to fool me into thinking he was brave enough to help me go through with it.
I was born with a sadness so overwhelming it frightens me too, sometimes.
But what I do know is that there’s someone out there feeling the same ache in his bones as I do and when it gets harder to make it through the day I’ll tell my heart to be patient for I haven’t found him yet.
When I finally find him I won’t ask him why he took so long to make our paths cross.
Instead; I’ll hold him, plant soft kisses on his face and ever so softly whisper, “welcome home, babe.”
I’ll wait for as many years as it takes because I’m certain you’re out there. // Rida Aamina (17.9.17)
hi, my name is jess and i have a mental illness. this is how i feel i have to introduce myself to people at this point in my life. I’m 20 years old, living with massive depressive disorder, PTSD, and an anxiety disorder. i go to therapy, i take medication but i can get sad, really really sad sometimes, and i can get angry, really really angry sometimes. and sometimes I’m not even me. sometimes i cant get out of bed in the morning, i cant brush my teeth, my hair, go to class, or practice. one minute I’m laughing and the next I’m crying. but i am fighting. sometimes i am happy, unconditionally so, stable, loving, and healthy. ill go to class, ill score the game winning goal, and ill end up with a 4.0 GPA for the semester, sometimes you cant even tell I'm living with this dark cloud inside of me. i cannot guarantee you that i will always wake up with a smile on my face, but i promise you this, i love unconditionally, hard, and whole heartedly. i give my all in everything that i do. i work hard. i have more determination inside of me than most people ive met. ive been to hell and back in my almost 21 years, but ive made it back every time. no matter how sad i get, no matter how shitty i get, i will come back from it, i always do and i always will. so try not to give up on me, because one day ill be back, ill be me again.