Mental Illness

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“They don’t know I am here… I don’t really know what to tell them.”
“Just say you went on vacation!”
Everyone at the table laughs; this is nobody’s idea of a vacation. This was our last resort.

There is a stigma attached to spending several hours per day, for weeks at a time, on a psychiatric floor. One of the more universal concerns expressed at the program is that inevitably, you will be asked to explain your disappearance to people in your life–family, friends, co-workers. I haven’t come up with a good answer yet.

I don’t really have anything to hide; I just want to make sure nobody thinks I am some loose cannon prone to snowballing out of control. It’s just that I’ve got some shit I’ve been worrying over, I am trying to deal with in the present and as well as the past. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m going to be okay.

I’m no longer certain if I have imagined you or if you are real. I’ve lost my place. I’m out of the hunt.
I think I fell out of the tree of life.
And hit every g-ddamned branch on the way down.

– Aaron Petrovich

I am finally getting tired of keeping all of it inside and these days I don’t care who knows.

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