A trip into the mind of insanity.

Attention seeking. Mentally unstable. Freak. Crazy.

The tamer of everything I've ever heard before.

Because one must be on the verge of commitment or completely walked out to have a mental illness.

If I hide it I'm ashamed but in reality I'm not.

But the second im honest about my condition I become your target.

It's easy to blame everything on the crazy girl, to use it to viciously manipulate a scared girl who hasn't accepted her fate. To spread lies to hide your own faults.

Because mental illness must mean insane right?

You use it to judge something you couldn't begin to understand. To make a game of toying with my feelings, finding sadistic amusement in my attacks, my personal hells.

But what you don't see is its thoughts about suicide, how your assault destroyed my life.

You think my condition is a joke.

What you don't want to know is that I'm crippled over with chest pains, gasping for air. My tears are unconfrouncontrollable as I beg for it to stop.

My gasps become shorter because asthma makes an appearance and suddenly your choking to breathe.

My vision fades to black as I sit there alone wondering if this is the end, fantasizing about stopping the pain here.

You laugh while I die inside little by little, each attack stealing a part of my soul.

The taunts echo in my head

"No one could love a attention seeking bitch like you."

"No man will ever be able to stand you."

Words you long ago forgot but they claim another bit of my soul as I believe them.

But it's not real, my condition is nothing more than a figment of my imagination. My feelings aren't real and I go through your humiliation for my own amusement, because I want attention from it.

But maybe, just maybe I'm not the sick one, maybe that's you who drives people intentionally towards suicide. Maybe it's you who torments those who are in reality NOT weaker.

Because when the panic dissipates and I pick myself back up again for you to knock me down, I always get up.

And those taunts echoing in my mind, your words berating me and telling me I'm pathetic; they're just a reminder of the poor excuse for a human who said them.

Maybe I won't always remember that, in fact I know I won't but my illness as you say, my ticket to commitment... is me and at the end of the day I am a better person than you.