The war Within a Letter

unreally written

The truth, reality – I question it’s existance. What I felt yesterday often seems so distant. I reach for it… grasp onto it, clinging for life, almost literally. Tiny hands extend from inside my mind wiping away at the negative illusion I feel like was created without my permission. Cheap windshield wipers only smearing the negative recollections among the positive.

Is

that

REALLY

how

I

feel?

Or is that the medication talking? or is that the depression talking? It’s dark in here. Too dark to find the light switch and with every step I stumble.

I’ve got to sit down. I’m tired.

I have to tell you  this while I can:

The truth is, I love you. I love the person you are and the person you are to me. I think you know this, even if in the moment I’m not giving you the reassurance I know you deserve.

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