... and you consequently feel lost.

They say misery loves company. I have always had this image in my head where I am in a ditch, or hole, and there is light streaming down the darkness that is... my soul and there have been people who had tried to pull me out of the ditch but they do not know that the darkness is not my home, it's my soul... and what blankets me, the toxic toxins that upsets me is myself as a whole. They tell me you are not your mental illness. But I do not know how to separate the me that upsets the other me who I think is just dying to die.

I am not a jealous person. It doesn't mean I am never jealous. It means it seldom comes to me. I am to crowded with negative feelings. I no longer have space. But sometimes, my ditch is a place people settle, and they suffer with me, for me, and I wrap them in my darkened soul. I love them because they are in my ditch, and they make me feel less lonely.

But of course, they leave, as they should, as what I hope, because people I love deserve more than my love that is nothing more than tattered silk in cold, gusty night. I am useless. I am worthless. Not clothes. Not rags. Just a being that be for no reason.

And then of course people leave for the light and they are happy. And I am not jealous. But I cry... something awesome.

Sometimes... I feel like... I wish I can be happy too.

I feel terrible.

I am happy for you feels like I am pulling at my own hair. But of course, I am happy for you.

But sometimes, I wish, you know, that I can be happy too.