Everyday is a war within myself. I’m constantly fighting with this disease for what I need to survive and it fights back for its own survival. Mental illness is kind of like a parasite. Taking over your vessel. Taking over you. I want real human connection, but it’s like I never could acquire a taste for it, over time, becoming allergic to it. I want a taste, but when I try it, it doesn’t agree with me. I can’t trust. I can’t love. I feel like I can‘t live. How can I? When I haven’t experienced true trust, haven’t felt unconditional love and have never lived, just survived. I stay on this world though, suffering, enduring the pain of depression, pushing through anxiety. All in hope that maybe I can. Perhaps I will too get to feel human. Like the couples I see just married. Like a mother holding her new baby. I just need to figure out how they do it. Just how do they do it. I‘m waiting. Patiently waiting. Waiting to experience the world in a way that feels good. That feels right. That feels human.