Pain of being me

I walk this path where most see the image I allow them to see, when in reality I am not even close to who they think I am. Where to begin? Miranda is all that matters, she is the only one who defended me, in front of me to my father, has accepted my mental illness without question, and above all forgives me for being me. I hate myself, because I feel like will never truly know who I am, one minute I am nice, the person I like, the next I am the super asshole. Here it is people, I listened as a kid, I followed the path I was told to follow, and yet my mind tells me, my father would  rather believe his version of me, over getting to know me. It isn’t just him. Everyone has this version of me. None of them are true. I am a man of integrity, I believe in the idea that we must follow a path of preparedness to best to understand each other. I have bipolar and adhd, I am an outcast in my own mind. People get upset at me for things I do that follow the pattern of someone who has these illnesses. I have to prove to everyone. Who I am. Including myself. I have given up on trying. You got two choices in life. Get busy living, or get busy dying. So live with who you think I am. To me I am someone who hates hurting anything, and yet hurts his love ones daily. Can you like that person? I can’t. 

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