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."