Being me.

Imagine, just for a moment, there was a bee stuck inside your head.

You can hear it.
You don’t know why it’s there.
You can’t get it out.
And it will never stop.
Only you can hear it.

Imagine, how insane you will begin to feel, experiencing this over, and over.

Now, imagine, trying to explain the bee in your head to someone. Imagine how it would feel as you watch their facial expressions change, ranging from humour, to confusion. How frustrating it is, all the while that bee, is just getting louder and louder.

When you reach a state of mania, consider how insulting it can be, to hear the people you have told about your bee, question it more.

but, how can you have that bee, if you’re happy? You can’t just pick and choose when you hear the bee, I’m not sure there is a bee at all.

Sometimes, that bee is my friend. Sometimes, that bee has the ability to make me hyperactive, and full of love, and life. That bee fills me with the desire to buy and do everything, at once! The bee controls my sexual desire, helping me feel sexy and attractive. That bee shows me just how exhilarating things can truly be. I feel like I can do anything and everything!

But most of the time, that bee is determined to kill me make me hate myself, completely.

That bee gets louder, more frequent, and I begin to feel irritated, frustrated and full of rage, that bee shows me how uncontrollable I can be. I want to hurt you, I want to hurt me, I want to hurt the world.

The bee never shuts up. The buzzing pushes me into the darkness of my own mind, where madness carves it’s own reality, either into my skin, or into my mind.

My body, and my state of mind, consists of nothing but blackness, terror and pure undefined hate, all because of that bee.

Imagine sitting next to someone, a perfect stranger, and wishing you could have their mind, and whatever troubles they are going through, just so you could experience a life without the bee buzzing.

That bee causes me to lose my bearings. Have you ever gotten on a train, and completely forgotten where you were going because of how loud that buzzing is?

Nothing at all seems worth it, when you’ve endlessly tried to shut that cunt up.

I cannot trust my reactions, I cannot trust my thoughts, I cannot trust my being, I cannot trust myself.

That bee has caused me to forget who I am.

I hope, you never hear that bee.

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Blogging for mental health.

Who actually knew, that creating a blog would be considered as a technique to help you deal with your mental health, how things have changed.

I’m not sure if my blog is private, the app is difficult to navigate, I’m not worried, there are far too many depressing blogs out there for people to bother looking at mine, which is actually my preference.

Writing daily entries is no doubt going to be difficult for me, I can barely remember to feed myself, let alone blog, but, a girls gotta try. Right?

It’s slightly interesting that every word I type, I’m hearing it in my own voice, hmm, maybe that’s why online bullying is as terrible as people say, who knows.

Maybe this will become like my diary, I’m not sure though, I haven’t used a diary in at least five years.

Well. Here goes nothing.

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