I used to be happy, faking happiness was fine by me, those days blessed with ignorance.
But I always knew something was wrong with me, I felt it.
I tried to cut my veins out when I was in eight grade and I can´t even remember why. I did not cry at my father´s funeral when I was eleven years old, and I don´t know why.
Every person got its own story.
Sometimes, it is not that I don´t want to talk, it´s that I have nothing to talk about. You know, when girls talk about the magic of the first time, and I can´t even remember my first time. But I remember reckless sex since highschool, I remember confusion, illusion.
I traveled 3 continents and my mind was never there. I could adapt to multiple different cultures but I can´t survive in mine.
I lost self love, or never had it.
I never got interested in learning how to do my make up, or how to dress properly. I faked it.
I do not want people to pitty me, so all the time I say I´m fine.
Everyday is a whole different world for me. One day is really noisy, people are mean, I get full of anxiety, Everything I do is wrong and I hate everyone.
But the next day is like none of that ever happened. So quiet you could almost feel it´s unreal.
My life is an everyday fight with depression and anxiety.
On doing catharsis for 23 years of a mean selfish bitch.
An everyday fight inside.
And maybe with photographs and writings, I could survive.
This is a journey that has become a war, to understand what is happening, to do right, to fix things.
And I shall continue fighting, For everybody that i´ve ever hurt.
And to all of you, Sorry.