Antidepressants

It hurts somewhere inside me. The doctor said it would take me eight months to start living, not just surviving. I've only been taking antidepressants and tranquilizers for a month. They said I'd get better. But my thoughts are confused. Today I thought I should kill myself, but I didn't realize it. It's my body's reaction. At first, I felt better, the nightmares disappeared. But why did it all come back? Why are my hands shaking, like I'm not real?

They don't believe in my pain. For them, OCD is a perfectionist's disease, and CPTSD is a military disease. I did survive the war, but it can never compare to what traumatized me every day.

People think it's a joke. When I starve, they think I'm punishing myself. I love myself. But my body remembers what it's like to be unworthy of food. It remembers and destroys itself so it won't forget.

I'm writing this here because it hurts. There's no point. I drink tea. I love tea. Drink tea for me while I'm alive