My Reality of Living Queer w/ Mental Illness

Hey y’all, it has been awhile. Honestly I don’t want to babble on with excuses of why I haven’t been writing or why I haven’t been that active on social media. Because you all don’t need excuses. Yet I feel this whole post is going to be a ramble of thoughts and excuses.

This is going to be a throw-back style post that will probably resemble the posts like I used to make on Courtney’s Voice.

There is so much going on in my life, and it feels so weird not to be able to share it with you all. This is my safe haven, but I can’t even talk about it here. I know a lot of people have been asking if I am ok and if my relationship is, and that’s a tough thing to answer. My partner and I are extremely happy together, there’s no like break up or anything. We’ve just been going through a lot of drama.

Which is why it has been so hard to sit down and write. My thoughts are clustered and I have been s

 

truggling so much the past few months to make sense of any of them. Depression has been getting the best of me too. Getting out of bed in the morning seems to take longer and longer each day.

I have so many things I want to do with this site, this community. But it is going to take time.

I will also be launching a beauty blog/youtube soon, which is something I have been wanting to do for years but alwaysconvinced myself that I am not attractive enough to do. The instagram attached to it (where you will be able to see updates) is @musingbeauty and lately it seems like its the only thing I have been able to be constant with.

So lets truly get into my reality of living queer with mental illness. 

Each day the light grows dimmer,
My inner voice grows weaker.
I want so badly to crawl through my own mouth,
to exist outside my own mind.

Thoughts rattle around,
overwhelming the scared person I am inside.
Voices, ones that aren’t my own,
echo the fears I already consumed every night.

My choices aren’t my own anymore,
they belong to the robot who walks around pretending to be me.
The actions of my body,
don’t reflect the feelings I have buried inside of me.

I often wonder what my headstone will read,
“Here lies the queer consumed by their own fears,
And rotted away while walking around pretending to be something,
They simply weren’t;
Fine.”

 

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