Mental illness is irrational.
It fills your brain with lies.
In some ways though those lies can give you a strange freedom.
They give you the freedom to question every thought in your head.
To pick them apart and try to decide if they're rational.
To try to decipher what is reality.
But what about what is not in your brain?
What about the rest of your soul, rattling around, trapped in your jail cell of a rib cage?
Can your heart and gut have illnesses that lie to them, the same way your brain can?
If not, what right do we have to question the feelings sprouting out of our abdomens like unwanted weeds?
When you feel something in the pit of your stomach,
when you feel it crushing your heart in your chest,
how can you dismiss it?
What if your brain is so sure that they're wrong?
You're left wondering which organs you can trust, if any of them.