The Illness

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Some people understand The Illness. Some people don't understand The Illness. What is this Illness you ask? It comes in many shapes and forms, it comes in many colours and there are many different types. Depending on the type of illness or illnesses is depending on how you will live your life.

Poetry / Drama
4.9 10 reviews
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

It's different for everybody.

For some, it's smoke, inhaling it, choking the person.

Others it's a wall, no matter how far you walk, there is no end

Some even say there is a giant mountain or cliff right in front of them, showing that climbing it and jumping over it, won't work and no way to get over or around it.

Some say it as bad luck if following them around and that it won’t leave

Everyone explains it differently.

Mine. Mine is like an infection going through my veins, with the addition of this grey sludge, clinging onto my body, the sludge moves in time with the infection in my veins, trying to drag me down, trying to stop me from getting to the place I need to go.

That's not the only thing pulling me down, more sludge tries to inflict fear into me from every possible angle, another tells me lies about my friends and family blaming me for things that aren't my fault, blaming me for others mistakes. One is telling lies about weight, another about height.

Then the loneliness hits. That one hits as hard as a train does. Being in two failed relationship, one ended because he got back together with one of his ex's and another ended because both sides weren't in the right head-space.

One person she met, any fights started, he made sure I was in the wrong, He made sure I was in the wrong for wanting someone to listen to my feelings.

Am I respected as a human? Am I respected as a friend? As a sister?

Do my friends see me as a friend or a punching bag which they can use any time of the day at any given hour?

The power these have is unbelievably strong.

Many believe, think even guess, that I am strong mentally, however, they are wrong.

"Not everyone has to show symptoms to have depression"

This isn't an opinion, but a fact.

My whole life I have been hiding behind a mask, a wall, anything. I have mostly been living my life as a character I had built throughout my life.

I'm going, to be honest, this sludge has had a hold on me for so long that I don't remember the real me.

So I am scared to break away from the sludge.

Do my friends remember the real me? What about the family? Does... Does anyone remember the real me?

Should I bother to try and find the real me? Is it worth it? Is it really truly worth it?

I want to know the answer. Is someone willing to tell me? Is someone going to tell me? Or do I have to work it out my self?

If I find the real me, will people take advantage of it? Will they hate me for it? Will I lose friends for it?

Maybe people would like it if I wasn't here or I wasn't their friend. My mum and older brother say;

"If you're not happy with the current friends you have, leave them and make new ones"

What if you've tried to make more friends but failed? What if you struggle to make friends in normal daily life? What if you're too scared to make new friends? What if, what if.

What if you don't want to leave them?

What if, yeah you might be unhappy with them but what if you don't want to leave them?

What if I am the reason all this drama, bullying, hate, problems are happening?

What if I am the reason everyone is unhappy?

Now there is this fear inside of me, one little mistake and they all hate me, I say my own opinion and they all hate me, I ask the wrong question

They Hate Me

I normally don't come online and post about how sad I am. January to July was different.

Ethan sent me his suicide note and ended it all. I put my inkitt into a 5-month long hiatus/break.

During that time two books were posted, 'The Boy In The Mirror' and, 'Currently'

I was told by a therapist that writing is a form of recovery.

Yeah, it helped me get over the passing of my friend, but it was only temporary. Just Temporary.

The pain soon came back, hitting harder than ever.

"People only care when it's too late"

That's a fact, not a question or opinion. It's a fact.

People should care when that person is still breathing and walking.

You gain one thing when it's too late.


You will feel guilty, but you won't show it, will you?

You will show that you cared when you never helped that person until it was too late, right?

Oh, what's this? The feeling of a new sludge and infection making you think;

"The magic in everything you enjoyed. Is gone,"

Self doubt, and you losing hope. Doubt is sitting there, knowing it has done its job right, it knows it is one of the bigger sludges out of them all.

What are the other bigger sludges? It's pretty simple.

But I'm going to let you work that out yourself.

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