What if your mind burned so brightly it frightened the world?
Each time I revealed the secret code of my mental illness, my soul lost a wee bit more of its brilliance. A life of pain and darkness attracted that which fed on the uniqueness they could only ever dream of possessing. Dullness failed to reveal the abnormality agony that haunted a magnificent but damaged mind.
A thousand blades slashed my flesh to the bone, leaving my rawness exposed for the world to kick around. I yearned to run and hide; to fall asleep into death; anything to protect me from having to face the insensitive world and suffocate in my abnormality agony.
Thieves of intimacy discussed, transcribed and dissected my life. My soul rotted while they tried to solve the mystery of the beast inside my brain. They lusted to glorify in the enigma, without sparing me my abnormality agony.
The looky-loos gawked through invisible bars but never saw tears flooding my cheeks. They failed to hear the cruel voices or see the images of terror that swamped my mind. While lost in the dark, the ache for embrace and to cry through my abnormality agony didn’t burn their soul.
Forever judged, forever analysed by those who believed they knew best because they read a couple of books in college. A new theory; a new box to lay me in. Experts glorified in superior dullness but a PhD couldn’t teach the pain of abnormality agony.
I didn’t want to talk about my darkness. I didn’t want to make love to the demon that lived inside my head. I didn’t want to be the puppy who smiled and nodded when I heard a tired old tip on how to cope with my mental uniqueness.
I yearned for someone to love my mental brilliance and ease my abnormality agony.
—H, branded by brilliance, aching for touch.
