Ghost Story

One of the hardest things for people without trauma is to understand flashbacks and nightmares. I’ve actually had people ask me if I start to hallucinate monsters and ask if I have “bad thoughts”.  So I felt it necessary to write an entry after a particularly hard nightmare. I guess all I can say to those people is educate yourself. Mental illness is not simply telling and hearing scary stories. It is a real a ghost story playing out in front of you. And no I don’t see monsters and have bad thoughts. Unfortunetly I impose the role of a monster on myself, for it is my mind and body that is so shamefully eerie.

 

You haunted my night last night and on a beautiful day I still sense your presence. Why out of nowhere do you  make yourself known? I’ve felt good and my own being for quite a while now and there you are once again. I’m toting your stench on me and I’m disgusted. Physically, I am trying to shrink myself. Make myself smaller. Hide my shame. Keep it hidden from the public eye. But for me it’s a flashing neon sign. A spaghetti stain on a white blouse.

I want out of my body and the disdain I feel for it. This is my own ghost story that will forever come and go.

Come and go.

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