There is fine line between me, and my mental illness.
By fine, I mean it is so fine that I forget it's there.
It is so fine that others hardly even know illness exists inside of me.
Now dont be fooled.
This isnt me saying the impact of illness is minor.
The very problem is that it is just the opposite.
The line is fine, but not because I am fine.
The line is fine because it is often very consuming.
Some days it so consuming that I am with out my given name.
And instead...
Socializing means introducing myself as anxiety, and doing everyday tasks means introducing myself as depression.
It means having to endure confused or even angry looks when I say 'I can't.'
Simply because they cant see the shackles that are holding me down.
It means trying your best, but it not being enough.
Simply because you are only capable of reaching 50%.
And while all of this is hard, nothing is nearly as hard as reminding yourself that you are not your illness.
Nothing is as hard as not beating yourself up over something you cant control.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
With God's help it is curable now. A good effort.