The idea someone understands what it is like to have to battle yourself everyday, is something only a person who has gone through it can know. People say they know me. How can they? For the truth is I don’t know me. I have locked myself in my room for most of the bad times I have. There are times I don’t take care of myself for days. People see what I want them to see. I hide among the crowd. I don’t want to be noticed, for to me the more visible you are, the closer to exposure of how I truly think of myself. What people truly don’t grasp is, the medication is not the cure, it cuts the killing edge off. It cuts out the danger to myself. I still find myself in a position of hating the idea, that I am understood. No matter how successful life is around me, for my successes are due to a very gracious higher power, and people who have walked this hellish path with me. My hell is not outside, it is what is internal, it is what you can not see. I find my anger over my fathers assumptions of who I am, the assumptions made by those who believe they know me, and the assumptions made by those I really care what they think of me, are due to the fact I tried to let people in. I have let a few in, but in an effort to sort my mind, I still believe that I am nothing more then a planned mistake. I have to face hypocritical people, who take me down in one way, then I watch them do what they condemned me of. My father hates that I talk too much. He does this as well. Funny thing is the defense of why he does it, is why I do it. It is different because he isn’t the mistake, I am. My problem is I wanted to know a man, who doesn’t want to know me. I realize that we butt heads because we are a like, and we are also different. The capsule of truth lies in the fact I feel that my family is open about everything, but what I deal with. My recovery was made to be hellish, due to idea, I did it alone. I am now with a supportive group. I love my family, I just don’t understand the very nature of family. Here is the deal, people don’t tell things. They want to protect me. This was written in September some things have changed due to my heart issues. The truth is should it have? For is not the heart an unseen illness? 

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