The Grave of Stigma.

I'm always intent on sharing my journey with mental illness, because everyone else, at least as far as I'm concerned, is either shy or disinterested in this topic. Speaking on behalf of the silent minority, I really sympathize with us.

I remember when I was diagnosed back in 2018, I had never put any effort in being happy. Peace of mind was just routine, including anything comfortable that everyone feels for being sane. I took everything for granted, till now.

But of course, even when we want to talk to someone, just to experience that emotional warmth, mostly there's no one. And the ones you talk to never listen to the unspoken pain and attention we're calling for. So we just isolate ourselves and march headstrong into the abyss of depression.

By the time you get out of that shit hole, you're confused, sometimes malnutritioned, and other times just hating yourself for being weak and vulnerable. It's so frustrating. And the cycle goes on and on. I'm only letting out because this evening is already heavy on me😞