Line

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

Sometimes I wonder, where’s the line.

Where’s the line in what I write.

Where’s the line in what I say.

Where’s the line in what I tell people.

Radical vulnerability.  Public Journaling.  Letting people into what it’s really like to live with an asshole brain, day after day after day.

But sometimes, I feel like I let too much out.

Sometimes I have conversations and let people know what’s in my head and I watch the after effects of what I have to say.

Sometimes those effects are immediate.

Sometimes they come in the form of messages years later.

Where’s the line?

Are trigger warnings and content notes really enough to burden others with what I go through.

Should I keep it contained.

It it better off wrapped in a neat little box in my head, only spilling out to contaminate my own brain and no one else.

Therapy once a week and stay quiet the rest of the time.

Maybe there’s a reason no one talked about this stuff.

Maybe the ones who stay quiet have it right.

Maybe I’m not supposed to color outside of the lines and make such a scene.

I don’t have a choice but to live with it, die with it.

Plans swirling around in my head, thoughts of death and what comes next.

But I don’t have to keep spreading it around the world.

Maybe they’d be better off without it.

Maybe I need to stay inside the lines.

Maybe.

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