Mood swings. Constantly. Isolation. Irrational decisions daily. Random tears streaming down my pale face. Speaking few words. You ask why I am the way I am. I am my mental illness. It locked me in a box. Threw away the key. Gave me a gift. It was a blade of course. I used it to escape the pain. I hid those wounds as best I could. long sleeves on daily. A mask to cover the whole mess. "I'm fine."