Reflections on the battle of mental illness.

I feel like my life has been stolen. Precious moments measured in minutes, hours, days and weeks, lost to a thief that freely wanders into my life with no regard for the things I hold dear.

My thief has no face, just a darkness that creeps in and overshadows me. I look back at the days I’ve lost. At special moments that could have been. Instead, my thief has them, carried away leaving hollow sadness where memories should be.

My thief makes my fragile heart pound till it feels like it will stop for all eternity. My stomach my thief makes turn, toss and crash like powerful waves of the sea. In my head thoughts that I am unlovable, a burden to those I love, my thief conjured like a magician. Weakness becomes my companion and tiredness my confidant.

All around me becomes a blur. Seas of faces laughing, smiling at life as it should be. While I feel like I’m gasping for air, for my thief has stolen my breath, its hands at my throat, crawling, scratching. Burning tears stinging my eyes while I look for hope, for peace.

Smiling photographs hide pain and sorrow but in my eyes the thief’s reflection. A painted face, tries to hide the stricken pallor that testifies to the constant battle.

I long to banish it, my thief, to lock all the doors to my mind and heart throwing away the key. But it always finds a way to evade my protection and spread its darkness again.

I try to run, to hide, sometimes finding solace for a while, but it always finds me.

I mourn the loss, the stolen time I can’t get back. I’m scared at how much of my future my thief will take too.

So I pace, till morning light, my loved ones sleeping peacefully in this my dark night. At my side my thief who has no face, but crosses many who greet it.

I know I’m not alone. There are so many of us each with our own thief. All it’s victim. Will no one be able to bring it to justice?