Not an Emo. Honest.

Please excuse my somewhat erratic posting, unfortunately I'm still somewhat at the mercy of an illness trough.  I'm one of the slaves of the invisible illness'.  I can walk, talk, cook and generally exist therefore I'm obviously fine. There's nothing to see here, there's no flowing of blood, no burst organs, no crutches nor bandages, neither cuts nor bruises and not a temperature or rash to be seen.  So obviously there's nothing wrong. 

It's all on the inside where you can't see and don't know where to look.  The M.E triggers the depression and the depression triggers the anxiety.  Circles and circles and circles again.  And I'm trapped.  Inside myself.  In this body and this head. They're hungry carnivorous villains that extinguish and devour the very core of who you are.  There's a reason you don't 'know' me, I don't know me anymore.  Maybe there is no 'me' to know.  Or maybe she's in there, somewhere, silent all these years.

& she's lonely.