I explain myself. I explain my idea. I explain my illness. The two men looking back at me stare expressionless. I can see it in their eyes. She’s insane. I feel the anxiety creep in. They’re not saying anything. They both look down, shuffle uncomfortably and move on. 

I can feel the abandonment. I’m a lost cause. My face burns and I can feel the tears at my eyes. I’m hopeless and empty. 

I’m here so you can help me but yet I feel far more helpless in your presence. I spend the next hour rehearsing what I’ll say to get me the hell out of this group. 

I’m so fucking broken. My partner demands to know “what my fucking problem is”. I’m mentally fucking ill and not one of you god damn bastards can help me. 

My toes are on the edge. I feel the momentum in my body swaying me back and forth, threatening to toss my body onto the rocks below. I want out. I want out of this hell. 
Someone just fucking help me. 


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