My Choice

We are all suffering from something
Different think to the table we bring
I often struggle with how much I share
by the fear of thinking that no one will care

I hate that I think I take up too much space
When I’m too overwhelmed my heart starts to race
Being in my disorder is hard to explain
My smile is big but my eyes are in pain

I want to get better but I can’t let it go
Try as I might, but it’s what my actions show
But what I call safe is really making me sick
I have other options but my illness I pick

Who I am now all comes from my past
Which is why I don’t think recovery can last
My monsters control me a lot more at night
To make me feel safe I hold my blanket tight

They still follow me in the light of day too
My blanket is always there to help me get through
When I need a break from life my blanket covers my flaws
I nap with it often, it’s how I take my pause

I once thought I had control of my illness
When I learned I didn’t I sat in silence, in stillness
I won’t call it recovery it’s more like remission
Getting treatment for this has to be my decision

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