Often people say they're your friends out of kindness;
Something almost like duty,
So that you don't have to feel rejection
As long as you don't need it, possibly.

Not only do I wonder if I am a victim,
But I am half guilty of it.
You could say I have a high standard of what friendship means,
Although, once that I say it,
It often takes on that meaning.
I don't aspire to lie so I say it and then afterwards I mean it.

We could like each other,
And get along okay,
But unless you assure me it's safe to say,
Then I won't assume we are friends,
As this word can mean many different things.
If you ask of it as if you expect a yes, as long as it's not a sick joke,
I will then say yes and mean it,
Because some have higher classifications of friends than others,
But sometimes it's used more loosely:
People you talk to,
People you're very fond of,
Or people like family:
We mutually work it out together,
Between us, don't we?

I don't see what will make me better how
So I keep swallowing the tablets,
Filled with sertraline
As if it could fix everything,
Believe me or not,
I think I'm attempting my best.

I don't want to hear you,
Telling me that I have
"Self-worth problems",
Not when everything around you is deceptive;
I can be nicer to myself,
Than you have ever dreamed of,
My brain can get confused
Erratically sometimes,
And that's all that it is:
My soul is just fine.

I think I'm addicted to the pain;
It won't leave me,
Some kind of comfort this gives me.
When nothing is a constant,
You give yourself something,
Like the cluster of feelings, numbness,
Or fear,
So you have one thing,
That might not disappear.

If you think deeply enough about it,
Even words with good intentions,
Are kind of terrifying.
You could say something so sympathetic,
Aiming to try and help,
But instead you load thoughts into their head.

"It's okay that you feel like that,
They misused your trust,"
But it's only then they realise,
Exactly what it sounds like,
So instead of being completely comforted or consoled,
They end up thinking:
Well if it's like that then I should feel like 'this'.

The truth is when other people phrase what's happened to you,
Often it hits you a different way
Than you have been looking at it.
Sometimes you start to form schemas,
Of how you should feel,
Or you just prove the evidence shows that it's right to feel this way,
And not just right, but that it's the only method to deal with it.
Someone speaks about how you've been hurt,
And how you should try not to let it impact your trust,
So instead you realise what happened means,
In your head now, that you should always let it influence you.
It's a bit messed up,
But that's how it can be.

It's almost like I crave what I'm scared of
Then when it's right there in front of me
It's too close,
Has got to go
And I'm fearful beyond possible belief.

She's hurting inside
The longer she cries
Deep blue eyes
Drowned out goodbyes

One day she wakes up and sighs,
"What now?" She asks,
This is escalating further,
To the point that she's screaming at herself,
"What am I supposed to do now?"
She sinks back down,
Onto her bed,
She can't go to sleep,
She's too upset.

Alone and angry or numb,
There's no in between,
She is either raging or happy as can be,
Sometimes she wonders if she's actually
Feeling anything.

How to find an absent parent:
Step one: mention it to family,
Listen to them tell you how ****** up that person is.
The third step is: believe them.

Four: you get through your childhood and into being a teenager,
Also classified as a troubled youth,
Because, come on, no one gets to eighteen having escaped being mentally *******.

Step five, this is where it gets messy.
This day was always going to come,
It's the day you considered looking, you make a start of it too.

The sixth comes slowly,
Maybe a year later after things have finally calmed down
In this complex situation,
You get some kind of response.

Number seven, you start to question things.
Eight: now you question everything.
You officially realise almost everyone is a liar.

Nine, someone else comes along to make you confused,
You conflict yourself so much as if it's good news.
Ten is where you welcome back the mixed emotions you've had the whole way through,
Except now they're amplified by tenfold,
Have fun getting through!

Eleven: you get some answers that half work to your advantage,
Yet still tell you absolutely nothing,
And now you're back to how you felt before;
Longing for the opposite outcome;
To have someone that cares.

Step twelve is where you're at right now,
You're absolutely horrified,
Do you look once more,
Open your soul up to people,
So that they can tear it up again?
Ask if you can become their slave,
So that you get the chance to feel their mass rejection of you?

This whole way through,
You question, do you want to know who made you?
Are you really sure that you want to find out what disgusting genes exist within you?

Supervening once again,
I'm agitated, unsettled,
Suspecting to be taken by it:
The madness, insanity, instability
But -
Mostly just the hurt,
And wonder, discomfort from the lacking.

It steals me
Yet I can never take ahold of it,
It leaves me confused, crying and abandoned once more,
It never resists,
Success this has against me
As I am held hostage.

Where am I?
In my mind which I can't empty.
I guess at least,
This way I'm inflicting this sorrow on myself,
So in a twisted way I'm in control,
Except I'm not:

Because I don't always want to run and hide -
Well actually I do, most of the time,
But I want this to be true
Or to be capable of staying in reality.
What I'm doing is a messed up thing,
Because whilst escaping real life I bring those painful situations,
Back into my world of comfort,
Just so I can battle with them some more.

If this is some type of war,
I think I'll die fighting,
And no one will be winning,
As I'm the only enemy.

"I must admit I've really missed you."
She whispers, speaking to her imagination.
A lonely room, a quiet girl
And a world full of wonderland.

"Why can't you be here, please?" She sobs secretly into her pillow,
Tempted to ask God if the sorrow will ever end,
Will it go away?
Her nightly prayers she saves for other questions.

"I really need you." She confesses,
But she's talking to herself.

It seems my body succumbed to all these feelings,
Helpless but breathing.
I shake and **** -
Made everyone confused,
Then I struggled to reach,
Not even able to get a drink.
What they said was seizures.

Seizures usually stop though:
It's day 34 now.
Next I wasn't able to walk,
Do you know what it feels like
For your body to just give up?
Collapsing is now regular,
Sometimes my whole body won't move
And currently as I write this,
Sitting up is a joke too.

Psychological seizures -
Last longer than usual
Yet can mimic epilepsy.
All the tests back normal,
Except from the ones which take weeks.
In my head, really?
That's basically what they said.

Now at a specialist talking therapy session,
For 'exactly what I have'
They told me:
You can't separate the mind and body.
The thing I like that they said most
Is that the physical symptoms are real,
That I'm NOT making them up.

However, I still don't appreciate when they tell me "this is good".
You see, they act like because it's not caused physiologically:
It's much easier to fix.
At the hospital: "I'm confident this will just stop
And probably won't come back."
Here I am still counting days,
I was in hospital for 3,
The 34 does not include the first week of milder ones,
One month till my exams
And actually it's just under that,
I count the minutes I can attempt to revise for.
I recognise the month I missed when I finally became productive,
Now I don't have a choice.
The teachers compliment how well I'm doing,
But they don't see me
Lying on the floor at home,
Pushing and willing my muscles to set me back up,
Whilst going
Absolutely nowhere.

My great Granny is way more capable than me.
Do you understand how embarrassing and berating it is,
When the paramedics come for the second time within a week or two,
Just to tell you quite simply:
"There is nothing medically wrong with you"?
"You're breathing is perfect,
Oxygen 100%"
"Does she have social anxiety"
-One of the first things that he said.
Can you guess how many anxiety attacks I've had?
Enough to be sure I'd recognise them by now.
"I wasn't anxious" I told them,
Desperate to be heard,
But as soon as they know about your mental health,
Nothing ever matters.

It's true that you take independence for granted,
Until it's taken away from you.
I don't think I've ever wanted to leave the house so much,
Than when I physically couldn't exit for
Just about a month.
I don't like burdening my family and friends,
It doesn't matter how they assure me
Either way I'm still dependently relying on them.

Although this does have one benefit
And some of it does make sense;
There are things I haven't been wanting to do,
By this it means that I can't do them.
Putting this open and honestly:
It's a potential get out of jail free card.
This way not doing it wouldn't be my fault,
Because I am physically unable.
That makes sense that it's psychological.
Another thing I tried to disprove it with was that,
"I've been better lately"
Which yesterday I finally got that explained,
The symptoms come on when you're relaxed,
As they are finally given the chance.
My body's saying no,
And sometimes I partly agree.

What doesn't help me is the:
"Therapy is how we treat this"
"It's good you don't have a physical cause."
Right, yeah, okay then.
So look me in the eye again
And tell me that it's fine.
Tell me how I recover from this debilitating illness
By doing what I've been doing for two years,
If that was going to work surely it would have been prevented?
People with a physical diagnosis receive physical help.
But what about me,
Do I just fall through the system's gap?
What happens when I can't walk,
When I fall off my bed from lying flat?
If I had a broken leg they'd give me crutches,
I get an "it will go away soon but it's impossible for us to say when".

If there's anything you take away from this,
Then it should be that:
One. It isn't just in my head.
Two. I am not in control of what's happening.
Three. It may be a conversion disorder but it's no less real.
Four. The last point states the fact that it causes PHYSICAL symptoms.

If I want to tell the whole truth then I have:
Non-Epileptic Attack Disorder,
A movement disorder causing seizures often looking like epileptic fits.
The truth I will give (probably) most people:
I have seizures which are not caused by epilepsy,
Which makes me shake and collapse
And if I'm feeling generous I might add another symptom on,
Because the longer this has lasted,
The more there are that come.