the art of loving

loving someone with a mental illness is not easy and i never claimed it to be. coming from a family of entirely mentally ill people, i understand the frustration you feel when your words just can’t get through me; as if there’s an ocean of possibilities that you are simply too afraid to cross. i get the helplessness you feel when you see me breaking down and, all you can do is hold me in your arms whilst you tell me that everything’s going to be alright eventhough you yourself aren’t sure you believe your own words. the comradery between us doesn’t just end there. oh no, i can see the desperation in your eyes as you watch the person you hold so dear to your heart fall apart at the seams; unable to carry out even the most menial of life’s tasks. i wish i could be of more help, i really wish i could but unfortunately, i know so much about my illness as you do so we’re both stuck in the same boat now aren’t we?

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