You have a better chance at understanding this than most out there, trust me.
I know I seem happy, cheery, bubbly, social, outgoing….all of those things that can be painted brilliant shades of pink neon colours.
But I’m still as suicidal you knew me to be before. No, don’t think it’s bottled up inside and that I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. That’s not it. I’m inventing, constantly and incessantly inventing to feel something, anything of the neon shades.
It might seem I don’t see any blue and blacks and whites anymore, but know that my insides are coated with those dark shades I so love.
They made me wish for death. They made me itching to get out of this life.
I might seem happy, cheery, bubbly, social, outgoing….all of those things that can be painted brilliant shades of pink neon colours,
But I’m just eagerly counting down the days, every street sign I pass, my heart races. It might seem like happiness, and it is- not of living life, but of approaching death.