The brutal truths of living with an everyday illness.

A tradition is the words I use to articulate my moods, the imbalance of emotions that flow out from every vein as I try to contain the evidence from the witnesses around me,

The bitter sadness and regret of unfulfilled potential that haunts my everyday whenever my mind decides to remind me the expectations I fail to live upto in the microscopic of detail,

The elation of passing the milestones that I’ve marked to help me better understand both myself and the role I have to play in all the stories I find myself acting in,

The confusion of never knowing what is reality or fiction due to the uncomprehensible nature of my expectations when allinged with the realisation of what is really happening around me,

My strengths are my weaknesses and my weaknesses some of my biggest strengths, the tightrope of mental stability is an everyday occurrence I wear behind this unconvincing smile,

My anxiety coexists with the heart on my sleeve, in a never ending battle to keep my hopes high enough to see another day, I’ve survived every end of the world thrown at me and walk taller then I’ve been,

Pass not a judgment on the everyday battle some of us fight behind the walls we built to keep people out just as much as to keep our own demons in,

My empathy for everyone that has loved and lost reaches far across the oceans I always write about and know that none of us are truely alone, a losing battle is never always the end of a war so let’s stand together and keep on fighting.