I often have trouble, figuring out if what I’m experiencing is real or not. If everyone else can see that man with the pin prick eyes. Or if on the outside I look to be conversing with the air. Sometimes I even ask people around me, if they saw that person or heard that noise. It can be quite frightening, being so unsure about your own reality. I feel as though my mind is a traitor.
I’m the broken girl. I’m the person you compare your life to, and you feel so much better. I’m the girl the bright shiny people have as a friend, to make themselves look better. Because it is the right thing to do. ‘If I have a friend as broken and damaged as her, then I’ll be doing a charitable service. She can feel normal. I’ll look better, I’ll look like I care but I won’t have to put any real effort in, I won’t have to look too closely.’ I’m the token damaged friend. The one you all look sideways at, worried when the next break down will be. I’m the one you all try and avoid seeing and talking to, the one that when we do interact, you look at the edges of me. The hard and splintered edges that catch the light, and not my eyes where the darkness is, because my issues are far too bizarre and strange you wouldn’t possibly know how to help. The other reason you avoid, is because when you look into my eyes, the eyes of a mad woman, you can see a bit of yourself reflected there. You can see yourself in me, the you you could become should you let it. Because that’s all that my problem is, right? I let myself get used. I let myself be broken. I let it happen. I didn’t try hard enough. What you don’t realise is, you’re already like me. You’re me, when I tried to be you. When I tried to bury my emotions and pain down as far as I could. When I tried to be normal. When I tried to tell myself it was my fault, that I let it happen. And the same thing will happen to you, that happened to me. One day that perfectly crafted mask will crack and fall, exposing the inner parts you are so afraid of. And you will become like me, shunned, disowned, segregated. Discarded. Used. And then some bright shiny person will befriend you, because that’s the right thing to do.
(C) Eleanor Smith 2012