me and my summer boy talked about mental illness.
its something that really terrifies me (because of how easy it is to fall into the addiction)
i told him about my close friend who was hurting so much
(and i didn't know what to do)
he told me about a guy he knew who killed himself
(when it was all too much)
i got out of his car and opened the gate to his beach house in silence
it wasn't that i was sad: i just didn't know what to say
(he was worried i was sad and wound the window down to ask if i was ok.
i said yes and held his hand.)
i've never felt so helpless. i've watched my best friends hurt themselves, over and over again.
but i feel like there's no way in hell i could ever understand what they feel.
they try and explain it;
i respect: admire the people who beat it.
i feel like i could never be that strong.
i count myself blessed to have such a fortunate life and such a good relationship with myself,
my body, my mind.
my main source of inspiration now (and growing up) is currently in hospital because of her battle: i only wish she saw herself the way i see her (strong, warm, funny, beautiful, unbeatable)