my doctor asked me what’s my truth, and I dawned on this question for a while. She came in the next day and asked me this question all the way up until I got discharged.
On the way to back campus in a smelly taxi looking out the rain spotted window I began to think.
My truth is I’m too sensitive, I think I can fix everyone but refuse to work on myself because I don’t think I deserve this wonderful life because I have yet to be anything but wonderful.
I love too fast and too hard for girls with dark hair and pretty eyes. I love to the point where it hurts me just to think about falling in love again with the wrong person.
I never think people are the wrong people.
My truth is I’m so scared to get crushed because when my mom crushed my heart I lost trust in everything.
I never let people in to the point where it hurts me and if I do let people in I have this weird invisible wall over my heart so they can’t break it.
My truth, I need everyone to like me so I feel better about how I don’t like me.
My truth is I have depression and I don’t know how to deal with it so I make jokes and push my feelings so low that I forget I have them sometimes.
I’m scared of white people. Im scared of people with different views than I have. Im scared of the world and to explore it because then I won’t want to leave.
I’m scared to get better mentally because I don’t know who I am without my depression.
My truth is I’ve been living a lie my whole life and I’ve started to believe everything.
My truth is I don’t have a truth.
I don’t have a truth because iv’e never been honest with myself about how I feel.
I want to die but I want to live, I want to love but I won’t let myself be loved, I want to enjoy life but I don’t do things that I enjoy.