I have lived with my illness so long, I don’t know who I am.
I am someone but my mind can’t process it without the illness there
The illness took away parts of me. Parts that made me who I am as a person
My personality doesn’t feel right without the illness. Its an empty echoing space in my head. Its a huge empty space.
It is where the illness lived. And now it is void. It numb. It so quiet inside of my head. Its deafening. It would drive a sane person insane
In a way twisted way I have become in a way intertwined with my illness.
My personal melted into the illness. My mind just knows the illness. My illness was the last addiction it had to define who it was and without out I feel so empty. And so alone.
In a way, I miss the racing thoughts. The impulse to do. I miss the sad feelings. The anger. The pain.
I can’t just fill this space. Its just so empty. So quiet.