Everyone tells me I sound better.
They say I’m doing much much better and that I’m succesful too.
I tell them I’m not, but that doesn’t matter they want to believe I’m better. No point in arguing against their beliefs. It’s a moot point. They won’t believe me anyway.
I look like I’m doing great from the outside in, but I’m not. I’m worse than I’ve ever been before.
How is that possible? The Meds. The Meds make me look more put together. They take the edge off of wanting help or arguing my point. They make me complacent.
They take away my desire to be understood and replace it with calm internal destruction. I’m still falling apart, but I no longer feel the need to beg for understanding, or help for that matter. I’m left with the calm knowledge that I’m fucked, no point in letting the world know, they can’t do shit for me.
I’m a functioning member of society now. That’s why people think I’m doing great, but I’m not. Why? Because I’m not feeling my feelings, I’m not doing what I love and I’m not living. I’m going through every damn motion pretending to be alive, when I’ve already subconsciously given up.
I’m a zombie. I wake up work, work some more, wish I could relax, go to sleep and repeat the same damn cycle every day.
This isn’t living, this is hell on earth. I can see why some people become suicidal on meds. It’s not that they don’t calm you down. They do. They leave you so calm in fact that you dissect every aspect of your life with perfect composure and then, when you find you’re fucked, with that same composure you choose to end the cycle. It becomes so unbelievably rational because you’re composed, and calm and it looks like the perfect way out. It’s not rash it’s planned and well thoughtout.
So, I’m not okay. I’m worse than I’ve ever been before because I no longer fight for what I want and I no longer care. Before I looked like I was extremely unstable because my moods and emotions were extreme, but they were mine and they were there because I was fighting for what I wanted. Now? I don’t fight for what I want. I wake up alone every day and I don’t fucking care. I’ve stopped caring that I don’t have love and that I’m not feeling fulfilled. I just go through the motions day and after day, but really I’m long since dead.
Everything I stand for, everything I believe, and everything I love is gone. I’m left with nothing but the motions of life.
I go through the motions and thats why I look better than ever. I’m no longer fighting society, or fighting for love or anything for that matter.
They left me perfectly docile and complacent. I’m going through the motions because that’s all I have. Everything else is gone and getting off the meds will only show the world what’s hidden inside.
So, I’m not okay, I’m worse than before, but that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, all I have are the motions.
I’m perfectly complacent and docile. The extremes are still there but no one can see them.
It’s a false calm within the storm.