Tried so hard to explain to my therapist about what I felt broke in my brain in August. How it has sent me back to the very beginning where I didn't know what was wrong with me, didn't know how to control it, and was unable to hide it.

As the years passed, I was able to control it, able to hide it, and then found out what was wrong.

Something shifted in August. I feel as though I've returned to that feeling of when I was young— in the dark, and lacking control or tools.

My mind has become torture. If always has been. But this time, it's different.

Why do I always tell people I’m glad they were born? Because I wish I wasn't, and it's always something that helps to hear.