Therapist

"You never know why your exhausted. You're fighting a war inside your head every single day. If that's not exhausting I don't know what is." The therapist replied back.

She asked him if he was happy, In which he didn't know how to reply. Yet he replied truthfully, "What is happiness to you? . . . What does it mean to be happy? I don't think I know what true happiness is."

"Don't get me wrong I have laughed and I have smiled. . . But that hasn't  happened in a long while. I think I was happy once. But now I just don't know." His voice carried over the broken sorrow of a child abused for so many countless years. 

"I don't remember when I truly meant the smile or laugh. I don't remember when I felt it and meant it, meant the laugh, or smile and didn't force it. Now I have to wake up and drown my sorrow with, "make it better," Pills to fake perfection."

"I have to paint on a smile, and fake a laugh. As if the things from the day before don't carry trauma. As if my life is a freaking fairy-tale, with little birds flying about and singing their songs. Pretend as if I am okay, but I'm not. And I am sorry."

"I am so sorry, I might not have scars on my hands or arms. But my mind is bruised, my heart is beaten, and my soul is defeated. People tell me I'm perfect and I should be happy. . . But I can't. It hurts that I can't be what everyone want's me to be."

"Or what anyone needs. It hurts that I Can't be what I want; What I need. Because I'm not good enough, And I never will be! I'll never even be close to enough. And it hurts, It hurts so bad. I'm Broken, My god, I am broken." 

His lips begin to quiver and tears began to build up around his eyes, bursting forth like water from a dam. There is static in his head once again, the side effects of his constant fear; Constant stress. His walls that once made him strong, come crashing down. 

"You are not broken, You are breaking through. Feelings are just visitors and you have to let them go, You need to look in the mirror, and comfort the demons."

"You hate when people see you cry because you want to be strong. But then at the same time you hate that no one notices how torn you are. Your bruises are covered by the smile on your face. Your tears drown out the blood lost yesterday."

"And I am so sorry that the world has broken you down to believe that you are nothing, but by all means you are something.  You can recover from all that has happened to you! Your so willing to feel it, your so close to healing it."

"Sometimes healing comes it waves, and other times healing is going to hit rocks. And that is perfectly okay, because you are still healing. You are not alone."